Captured
by Sybl Angelkat
Summary: It begins with the separation of the party just before the infamous Bevelle scene: Yuna washes up on the beach and who should find her but our favorite blue-haired Guado villain? How would all this go if the wedding wasn't intercepted in time? So far, one-sided SeymourxYuna. Feedback appreciated greatly on this one.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: My take on what might have happened if the wedding wasn't intercepted in time. I've been having fun writing about Seymour's darker side. One-sided Seymour/Yuna (at least as far as I've decided).

Chapter 1

It was only a few hours after he had died that he returned as an Unsent. The darkness slowly faded as his Pyreflies reassembled a physical body. It was beyond bizarre that there were two Seymours in the room: the chilled, stiffening body that lay on the slab and the other standing next to it. Seymour had ascended out of the tomb and given poor Tromell quite a fright. The poor elderly Guado had let out an astonished gasp when the door creaked open.

"Oh! Lord Seymour!"

"You know me," Seymour said casually, letting the door close with a thud, "I could never stay away for long…"

Tromell grasped Seymour's hand in his only for a moment, as if to be sure that the giant Guado half-breed before him wasn't an illusion. Seymour's hand was even more icy than he expected.

"I was afraid you'd become a fiend," Tromell admitted, releasing his grip.

Seymour chuckled darkly.

"Why are there no guards, then? Surely you'd never stand a chance against whatever I would have changed into by yourself."

Not wanting to spend another minute in the damp catacombs, they ascended the stairs and went back to the mansion. It was late at night, so the others were not aware of his return. They would, no doubt, be overjoyed that their beloved Maester had been returned to them.

"I do not wish to pry," Tromell began, interrupted by Seymour's cold smirk, "all right, yes I do…what is it that holds you here, Lord Seymour? You must have some very strong convictions indeed to resist the Sending."

"I think you know," Seymour responded.

"The Lady?"

"Of course."

"So now what do we do?"

"We go and find her and carry on as planned," Seymour said, lounging casually on his favorite couch, "and we make her fulfill her end of the deal. She wanted to see me brought to justice—but there's not much more anyone can do to me now. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, of course, but—"

Seymour's expression shut him up.

"Very well," Tromell said, resigned, "what do you need me to arrange?"

After everyone had gotten separated, everyone turned up at Bikanel Island—everyone except for Yuna. After several days of tracking, the Guado managed to find her. She was lying on the beach with only the slightest shred of consciousness remaining. Exhausted from treading water for so long, half-drowned, and injured, she couldn't even bring herself to climb all the way out of the water. The waves washed in and out, continuing to soak her skirt and boots. Her staff lay on the ground in front of her, three of her fingers still clinging to it. A cut marred the side of her face and half-dried blood congealed there, matting in her hair. She could vaguely hear the sea birds crying above her, the waves going in and out. The warm sun was getting uncomfortably hot now. She heard a heavy tread approaching through the sand towards her.

"What a pity," a familiar voice said quietly.

_I must be dreaming…for a second, that sounded like Seymour…_she thought vaguely.

The person bent over her, casting her in shadow. Her fingers twitched on the staff, but she couldn't move otherwise. Hands lifted hers, hands so large that they practically swallowed hers. Fingertips probed her pulse point in her wrist, checking for a sign of life. They needn't have bothered—the person's touch was so cold that it caused her to shiver. For the time being, she thought it best to "play dead"—not that it was hard, of course. She didn't resist or even move as the man turned her over and gathered her up. Carrying her bridal-style, he took her out of unmercifully hot sun and the relentless waves.

On the outside, she was still. On the inside, she was panicking. She recognized that earthy scent that the Guado had. There was only one of them that was big enough to bear her weight easily.

"Do not wake her," the now very familiar voice said, "she is injured. Let her sleep for as long as she can."

"We should get her some dry clothes," another familiar voice said. This one sounded like Tromell. She felt her boots being taken off and heard the water trapped in them dribbling to the floor.

"Lord Seymour…perhaps we should ask one of the women to do this," Tromell suggested. She heard them retreat. Someone else came in, someone that had a very distinctly feminine smell of flowers and fruit. Whoever the girl was, she didn't speak at all and had mastered the balance between efficiency and gentleness. She patched up Yuna's injuries, dried her off, and changed her clothes. Yuna even felt a brush being tugged through her hair in an attempt to rid it of sand and tangles. After that, she really did fall asleep again.

_I'll be with the others again when I open my eyes next…_she thought drowsily.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone. Her still-damp dress was laying over the back of a chair next to a fireplace. She was laying in a small bed with a brightly colored quilt. The gown she had on was a bit big for her, but it was warm and at least dry. The sleeves were so long that they covered her hands and the collar, though meant to be modest, slipped down her shoulder a bit. She felt the confinement of gauze banded around her head and gingerly touched the area that she knew to be gashed. One of her arms was in a cast. She felt a little sick to her stomach, though that could have been from lack of nourishment.

_But if this is real…_

Yuna's heart rate began to increase. The door opened and she assumed that the Guado woman from before had returned. As with all the others, her bright red hair grew in spikes and the veins on her face contrasted sharply with her tanned skin.

"Ah, good, you're awake," she observed, "I was beginning to think you'd be out for days. We tried to give you some potions and even a Phoenix Down, but Sin's toxins seem to have made them inefficient…"

Yuna was wishing she'd stayed asleep. Her head was pounding now.

"Here—try this. At least now you won't choke on it."

She took the potion bottle and gulped the contents.

"Where are we?" she asked when it was gone.

"We're near Bevelle," the woman said, "it's about a day or so away."

"Who else is here?"

"Oh, just the standard entourage: guards, servants, including me, Tromell, and Lord Seymour."

The potion bottle shattered noisily as it slipped from Yuna's fingers and hit the floor.

"_Seymour?_" she cried in disbelief.

"Yes…I was in a bit of shock as well," the servant said, moving to sweep up the glass, "we Sent him, of course, but apparently he felt that his work here wasn't done. You were the first person he asked about when he emerged from the vault. I went to the Farplane to visit him, but he wasn't there. I should have known what that meant."

Yuna thought she was going to cry. The color drained completely out of her face—what little of it had remained. She buried her face in her quilt, trying to calm her breath which came in short, panicked gasps.

"There's nothing to be frightened of, dear," the servant said gently, "he's just the same as he always was! No indication that he became a fiend."

Yuna swallowed hard and finally asked "Where are my guardians?"

"They're on Bikanel Island as far as we've heard," she said, "Lord Seymour chose simply to leave them there. They weren't aware of our presence."

Yuna breathed a sigh of relief. As long as they were safe, they might return for her. But in the meantime, what was she going to do?

"Lord Seymour will want to see you now that you're awake," the servant said, finishing up with the broken glass, "I'll go and get him."

Yuna opened her mouth to protest, but it was no good. She was gone already. While the servant was gone, she looked around the room. There were no windows, which bothered her. There weren't even any pictures on the wall, only the repetitive stone. Besides her bed, there was a chair by the fireplace, a night table, and that was about it. She shakily poured a glass of water from the pitcher there and gulped it down. It seemed to have no impact on her dry throat which constricted more with every step that approached. The door opened again and Yuna stared down at the empty cup in her hands, not wanting to look up. She heard the rustle of fabric as the back of his robes grazed the stone floor.

"Awake at last," his cold voice said quietly, "I'm glad you've returned to us."

She didn't say anything. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him close the door behind him. This was worse than being trapped with a bunch of fiends or even dark Aeons. It didn't help that the only light came from the fire, which made him look dark and even more sinister.

"It was a wonder that nothing happened to you on that beach," he continued, "Tromell believes you were there for at least a day or two before we found you."

Silence. She felt him place an enormous hand on the side of her head. At precisely the second she was going to pull away, she felt the pain beginning to dull.

"Don't fight me," he said, an edge of annoyance in his voice, "I'm trying to help you."

She hated herself for it, but she gave in and let the curve of her cheek rest against his palm. Her eyes slid closed as the white magic flowed through her battered, bruised body. His hand was freezing, but it felt good against her hot cheek.

"There, you see? I mean you no harm."

"That wasn't the tune you were singing in Macalania," she said accusingly.

"You forget, Lady Yuna, that your guardians were the ones who threatened _me._ Did I not have a right to defend myself?"

"_You_ threw the first spell!" she snapped.

"That's only because three against six hardly seemed like a fair fight," he reminded her, "and I took great pains to be sure I didn't hit you."

"Like that makes me feel any better," she snapped.

He chuckled quietly.

"I should take this as a good sign," he remarked, "if you want to argue, you must be feeling better."

"I want to go back to my guardians," she demanded.

"They are miles away on Bikanel Island," Seymour informed her, "it will take them days to reach us. And I don't intend to be here when they do. When you have regained some of your strength, we will go to Bevelle. You may get your next Aeon there."

"I can't travel without my guardians! I won't!"

"Yes, you will," he said firmly, "_I_ am your guardian now, Yuna. And in this form, I have more strength than all five of them with none of their weaknesses."

She didn't like the expression he had. It was that cold, calculating smile, the one that was even icier than his touch.

"Remember the day you agreed to my marriage proposal? I assume that you did so in order to bring me to justice for my father's death. It was you who declared me guilty and delivered my execution. Now you must hold up your end of the deal."

"But—"

"Think of your precious guardians," he said in a dangerously quiet tone, "I chose not to harm them when I easily could have. Even now I do not act against them because I know it would crush you. The price you will pay for all their lives is so small in return."

Yuna felt as if her heart had dropped out of her chest, through the mattress, and into the darkness beneath the earth. She thought of Tidus's smile and gulped back the lump of unshed tears in her throat. On the outside, however, she remained perfectly stoic and calm.

"I suppose I have no choice, then," she said dully.

He ran her fingers through her hair.

"Do any of us, really?"

Without another word, he rose and left. Yuna felt everything inside her deflating. It was only when she was sure that no one else would see that the tears began to fall. She thought of Kimahri's strong arms, Rikku's undying supportiveness, Lulu's gentle firmness, and Sir Auron's gruffness that concealed how much he really cared about all of them. Tidus came to mind last but certainly not least. He hadn't made her feel the way Seymour had—his presence was warm and he was easy to talk to. While Seymour had previously made her feel dizzy and shy before she learned who he truly was, Tidus had the presence of a candle-flame: warm but not overpowering. Then, her thoughts turned to what was left of her life with Seymour. His hands were so cold…she hated his touch now because it felt like death. It _was_ death. There wouldn't be even the slightest comfort in his cold embrace. It was aggravating how he kept acting as though he was doing her a favor when she was now essentially his prisoner. Another emotion surfaced that she didn't expect: pity. Seymour was so convinced that he was doing the right thing and his convictions had only strengthened in death.

_That's why I have to Send him…he will grow increasingly mad. There's no way a person can hold onto a twisted idea like that before it destroys their mind,_ she thought. She remembered that day on Mushroom Rock, the fateful Operation Mi'ihen. When she was crying brokenly over the waste of lives, of the ocean littered with bodies, he had tried to comfort her in his own very awkward fashion. _Take me as your pillar of strength,_ he had said. For one moment, she thought he was going to hug her, but he hadn't. And the sad thing was that she'd very much wanted him to.

_Why did you have to be the bad guy?_ She wondered. There on that beach, she'd helped him fight the escaped Sin Spawn. It had made her feel good to constantly cast healing spells while he tore the creature apart with fire, lightning, and ice. There was something about having to fight together just to survive that brought people closer. Even if things hadn't gone this way, she and Seymour might have been friends in another life.

Her brooding only made her more tired. She gave in to the exhaustion and went back to sleep. However powerful of a white mage Seymour might be, it was still having to compete with Sin's toxins.

Her dreams were terrible that night. It was one nightmare right after another and they all got progressively worse. Her reactions to them ranged from just twitching and mumbling a bit to full-blown screaming. When that last part happened, Seymour and Tromell both burst into the room at the same time. Whatever was haunting Yuna's dreams must have been very frightening to her. She had fallen out of the bed and was now all tangled up with her covers.

"It's only a nightmare," Seymour told Tromell, "let me deal with this."

"As you wish, my lord," Tromell replied shakily. He was very pale—he cared almost as much about Yuna as he did Seymour. Grateful to get away from the shrieks, he disappeared rather quickly. Seymour knelt next to Yuna and stroked her hair. She jerked awake, eyes wild and dark.

"Oh…." She breathed, embarrassed and feeling a bit violated, "what are you doing here?"

"I came to see what you were carrying on about," he said, tugging the blanket loose, as it looked like it was about to choke her, "it must have been a terrible dream to make you scream like that."

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she angrily blinked them back. Despite all the important places being covered, her nightgown was askew and the skirt of it was showing a fair bit of leg. She tugged back down.

"It must be the toxin…" she said shakily, "…Tidus did the same thing in his sleep when we first met."

She got out of the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Immediately for reasons she couldn't explain, she felt guilty about talking to Seymour about Tidus. She had planned to keep everything about her friends deep down where he couldn't reach it. Seymour rose and settled next to her. Once again, he was easily three times her weight and she felt the mattress sink in, creating a gravity well once more. He wrapped his arm around her and she shivered, curling up into a little ball.

"My apologies," he said quietly, pulling away only long enough to wrap the blanket around her, "I forget how cold I seem to the living now."

She was glad that the blanket insulated her somewhat from his touch, but she could still feel the pressure of his arm as he drew her close once more. She realized, very disturbed, that his scent had changed. During the time he proposed to her, he had leaned in closely enough that she could smell him. He had a damp, earthy smell that was like a rainy springtime—all the Guado carried a similar sort of smell like that with slight variations. This one, however, stung her nose. It was the way the winter air smelled on a frosty morning. It was odd that a person could actually _smell_ like coldness. She shouldn't have been surprised.

"I'm sorry I disturbed your sleep," she said haltingly, "I think I'll be all right now."

He knew she wanted him to leave, but he made no move to get up.

"I no longer need rest," he told her, "I should thank you for freeing me from such a weakness."

The color drained out of her face, leaving it even more ashen than before. No sleep? Oh dear…that was going to make escaping a lot more complicated if she decided to try it. No doubt he would suspect her of that. Her chest tightened along with her resolve to Send him as soon as possible.

_This is for Spira, remember?_ She thought to herself.

"Oh…well…surely there are other things you'd like to be doing right now?"

Again, he had a rebuttal: "Not more than this."

She felt very flustered. Why wouldn't he just take the hint and go away already?! Then again, Seymour was very good at pushing buttons. He always had been. She wondered if he'd leave if he actually got what he wanted—but how would she know what it was? How far was this going to go? She tried not to make any noise as she swallowed, but she was sure that she gulped so loudly that he probably _did_ hear it. The thumping of her heart was also something she was sure he could hear. Ever so slightly, she leaned in against his side. It was uncomfortable to say the least: her thigh was already brushing his a little bit and she could feel the cold seeping through his robes. Nevertheless, he held her there for a minute.

"Relax," he whispered, "you have nothing to fear from me."

_As long as I do what you say,_ she mentally finished for him. Unwelcome drowsiness overcame her as she sat there and she actually began to yawn a bit. Her body, having a will of its own, slumped against the half-Guado's massive frame. This was apparently what he had wanted all along, for he gently eased her back down onto the bed and spread her covers over her.

"Good night, Lady Yuna," he said with that smirk that she so despised.

_Funny how I used to be terrified of monsters in the closet,_ she thought, _or under the bed. Now I have a real one that creeps in at night…_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Yuna _did_ feel better the next day, although she was still weak and couldn't do much without getting out of breath. She still felt strange and withered and cold, so she wrapped her quilt around her body like a protective cocoon. Her clothes had been washed and she was glad to put them on. Her staff was still missing—it wouldn't surprise her if Seymour had hidden it somewhere. She brushed out her hair and scrubbed her face. She felt as if she was falling apart inside, but she wouldn't give the Unsent half-Guado half-madman the satisfaction of seeing it. She again thought of the others and hoped that they would be all right without her. While she wasn't all that much of a fighter, she'd been quite valuable as a healer and hoped that Tidus wasn't getting too clobbered. Just as her mind chased this thread of thought, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Lady Yuna? Are you awake yet?"

It was the same red-haired servant as yesterday.

"Oh! You've got some color back in your cheeks! I'm so glad! You'll probably want to take it easy today just the same, though."

A smell wafted through the air and Yuna's stomach rumbled in response. She'd forgotten the last time she'd eaten anything solid and her body was demanding nourishment.

"Will you be dining with the rest of us or should I bring your breakfast in here?" the servant asked.

In a flash, several things went through Yuna's mind: first, she absolutely didn't want to see Seymour. She'd had her fill of him last night and it was going to be hard pretending that nothing was wrong. But the other side was that if she outwardly showed any discomfort, Seymour would never learn to trust her. And the unfortunate part was that she needed him to.

_What have I become?!_ She lamented internally. Already she was trying to figure out the best way to manipulate him.

"I'll eat with the others," she said quietly though being near Seymour was liable to destroy her appetite.

"This way, then!" The servant was cheerful, unaware of the dark thoughts of the Summoner behind her. It appeared that they were in some sort of disused temple or ruin of some kind. Some haphazard attempts had been made to make the place livable again: piles of rubble were used creatively as shelves, tarps had been thrown over the holes in the ceiling, and some of the larger bricks that had fallen had been fashioned into chairs and benches. There were a few guards walking around that bowed to her respectfully though their eyes were wary. She gave them what she hoped was a welcoming smile even though she wanted to shout that they were right, that she wanted to escape. The closer they got to the dining room, however, the more her resolve melted. The smells were a Siren's song: cooking meat, freshly cut fruit, even coffee. There was a tea that she knew to originate from Macalania Woods that only the Guado knew how to make and they kept it a closely guarded secret. She thought it had something to do with moon flowers. Her eyes panned the room. There were plenty of other Guado there, mostly guards, but Seymour was nowhere to be found. She breathed a sigh of relief and imagined that she might actually get to enjoy her meal.

"We've got a special place set for you," the servant said, gesturing to what looked like a very nice chair. Everyone else was sitting on long benches. The table here was positioned at the head of the room. If Seymour still ate, he probably would be here. Traditionally, it was a sign of authority. She _did_ notice a few other places set, some filled and some empty. The servant pushed her chair in and a couple of others brought the serving dishes. Yuna noticed that the plates, cups, and silverware were all metallic with intricately carved branches and leaves. At the end of her fork was a tiny clump of grapes with vines that twined around the handle. This pattern was also present on the other things as well. She could see her reflection in the polished silver plate.

"What would you like to drink, my lady?" one of the servants asked. He was a purple-haired Guado and couldn't have been older than fourteen or fifteen.

"Is that moon flower tea I smell?" she asked.

"Aye," he replied.

"Then I'll have some of that, please."

"Coming right up."

He brought her a mug of the steaming blue liquid and offered her sugar, which she declined. Then she began to fill her plate. The meat she recognized as Behemoth steak which was so tender that she scarcely needed her knife to cut it. There were fluffy scrambled eggs, several different kinds of fruits and pastries, and a type of hot grain that resembled porridge (though she couldn't identify what it was). It all looked so good that she hardly knew where to start. Her favorite, by far, was an apple-sauce-like dish made from several different kinds of fruits from Guadosalam.

"Bastian is quite the cook, is he not?"

It was Tromell who had said it. She breathed a sigh of relief when, once again, Seymour still appeared to be absent. She felt a little bit more comfortable with him though she was still upset with him for smashing Jyscal's sphere.

"Yes, he is," Yuna replied politely, "the fruit sauce is exceptional."

"It's practically everyone's favorite," Tromell said, "even though Lord Seymour hardly ever eats now, he will still have that every now and then. I shall have to make sure we serve this at the wedding."

_Now_ her face was red.

"That would be wonderful," she said quietly, wiping her mouth to conceal the grimace in her napkin.

"Is there anything else we can get you, my lady?"

"No, thank you," she said, "I don't know where I'd put it."

She lay her fork and knife down and watched the teen boy with the purple hair come to whisk her now-empty plate away.

"Lord Seymour is busy at the moment—he sends his regrets that he couldn't join you," Tromell finally got to the point, "but he instructed me to walk with you outside. The fresh air may help your recovery from the toxin."

She followed Tromell out onto the beach. Looking around, she realized that you'd _never_ know this was a lived-in ruin.

"Tromell, where are the guards?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," Tromell said, "the advantage of growing up in such a dense forest is that we've learned to blend right in with our surroundings. There are plenty of guards here to keep you safe on all sides and the enemy would never know what hit them!"

_That's what I was afraid of…_Yuna thought. Not that it would do her any good—she had already decided to play his little game.

"Lord Seymour himself sometimes volunteers for guard duty as he no longer requires sleep," Tromell continued, apparently thinking that he was making Yuna feel better, "he has no trouble at all taking on the local fiends."

_I imagine not…_ she suppressed a shudder, remembering how hard he'd been to beat those two times they'd fought.

"You'll be completely safe here," Tromell finished, "we'll make sure of that."

Someone was coming towards them. Yuna's breakfast began to churn uncomfortably in her belly. There was no mistaking that enormous frame or the horn-like locks of hair that stuck out from the person's head. She had been hoping for a little more than an hour's peace.

"Ah…there he is now!" Tromell beamed. Yuna pitied him immensely in that moment. Tromell was a poor, misguided old man and Seymour was using him just like everyone else. What must it be like to have that kind of loyalty to someone? Again, she found herself thinking of Tidus. What if he had done something terrible and she would have to choose between him and a bunch of strangers?

"How did it go?" Tromell asked. Seymour was rubbing his shoulder, using the crook of his elbow to hold his staff.

"About the way we expected," Seymour replied, "excuses and more excuses. What they didn't want to tell me was that our shipments were being held up by a Sinspawn. It would have been nice to know that _before_ the chocobos bolted and nearly ran us off the road."

He released his hold on his shoulder. Tromell gasped.

"My word! We should have one of the medics take a look at that!"

Yuna's stomach turned. Even with the bulk of his robe, she could tell that his shoulder was dislocated. Tromell peeled back the robe and confirmed the suspicion. Some of the others came running.

"Stop making such a fuss," Seymour said, somewhat annoyed, "it's not the first time I've come back injured."

But they wouldn't shut up. They led him inside and she was swept in with the crowd where they made Seymour sit down. He was stripped to the waist, the heavy silk fabric water-falling over the sides and back of the chair. The shoulder was only one of few injuries: he had several gashes on his chest and stomach where something had taken a swipe at him. The red-haired servant immediately pressed a clean cloth there to try and stop the bleeding. One of the stronger male servants managed to push the bone back where it belonged after a few tries. The only indication Seymour gave that it hurt was a muffled grunt. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on his face and caused it to glisten in the dim light. His breath came in short gasps and his fingertips dug into the seat of the chair.

"Lady Yuna?" Tromell asked quietly.

Until that moment, everyone had forgotten she was there and she'd preferred it that way. Now, all eyes were on her and she wanted to shrink from their gazes. Seymour wasn't paying attention to her—his eyes were closed. The pain had gone from intensely sharp to a dull ache as he flexed his fingers experimentally. Yuna resisted the urge to sigh.

_Why do I have to be the one to do this? Surely there are more healers than just me…_

She nodded and placed her hands on Seymour's shoulder, being very careful not to apply any pressure. The vengeful side of her wanted to squeeze it and make him hurt just a little bit more, enough to know that she hated being pushed around. Instead, she touched him so feather-lightly that it would have been impossible. White light began to flow from her hands into his skin. It wasn't something you could see so much as feel. The pain immediately subsided and he turned to look at her hands. It was so quiet in the room that Yuna could hear her own heartbeat. The silence would have been excruciating if she hadn't been so focused on the spell. After she was sure his shoulder was now intact again, she peeled away the bloodied dish towels and began to heal the bleeding wounds. He winced a little in pain as it stung, but that was worth it. He watched the wounds dry out under her tiny fingers and seal closed. The red swirling blossoms of pain in his mind grew fainter until they melted into the shadows.

Yuna was awkwardly aware of every little change. She had felt him begin to relax the minute she'd touched him—trying to get home with a busted shoulder and four bleeding gashes must have been agonizing. His breath had slowed under her hands now, the ribs rising and falling gently. She had to wonder, however, why he hadn't healed himself then. Perhaps he didn't know the extent of his injuries. Perhaps he had been so determined to get back that he was aware of them but hadn't cared. Or maybe this was a test. She hoped it wasn't the last one.

"Thank you, Lady Yuna."

She only gave him a wordless nod in return. Some kind soul offered her a wet rag to scrub her hands with—Seymour's blood, now growing sticky, was all over them. He watched her for a moment before someone inquired why he'd arrived home in such a state.

"I received word that some provisions for our guests would either be delayed or put off entirely because there was trouble on the way to Bevelle from the south," Seymour told them, "upon further investigation, there have been a great deal of fiend attacks in the area recently. Entire carriages and freights went missing as well as the chocobos pulling them and their drivers. At first, I suspected bandits, but there were no patterns in the items taken. Several of the Crusaders had gone in with armored chocobos and they too went missing. Luckily, we passed by at the moment the creature decided to come out of the woods and show its ugly face. I'm afraid Lonnie and Ada are done for…"

He bowed his head and Yuna heard a few exclamations of disbelief and shock followed by wails of grief.

"I killed it," he continued, "but I was not fast enough to save them. The best I could do was to Send them before I returned."

Yuna's face had paled. She tried to imagine Seymour standing on the side of the road with the two dead Guado performing the Sending dance with one good arm while his own blood continued to dribble to the ground. It was a very morbid mental image.

"We will still hold a memorial service for them this evening," Seymour continued after a moment, "though, of course, they have already been sent. I would not deprive you of a chance to say goodbye."

The pain in his voice sounded very genuine. In fact, Yuna found herself wondering whether or not he was really sorry to have lost two of his guards or if he was saying these things to make the others believe he really cared about them. The way he spoke now was completely different than the way he had addressed her and her companions coldly during battle. It was easy to see why everyone _wanted_ to trust him.

"Lord Seymour, you should go and rest," Tromell said quietly.

"I can't," Seymour replied, standing, "I have more to do."

He shrugged back into his robes and retrieved the staff from where it was leaning against a table. For the first time since arriving here, his gaze met Yuna's.

_Let me catch you trying to cause trouble,_ his expression seemed to say, _I dare you. Especially now._

She could only stare after him for a moment.

_The actors must play their parts,_ his voice from long ago on that day in his Guadosalam mansion replayed in her head.

"Maester Seymour! Do you need any help?" she blurted out about three seconds too late. Everyone was already exchanging glances. Seymour was almost to the door. He turned, his rigid hair rustling against the fabric of his robe.

"Of course," he replied, "if you're feeling up to it, Lady Yuna."

The train of his robes slithered like a snake as he left the room. Yuna reluctantly followed the dark-plum-with-white-designed fabric, knowing she was committed now. She was trying to walk far enough back that she didn't step on the hem.

"What kind of Sinspawn was it?" she couldn't help but ask.

"The kind that had so many claws and fangs that the rest was indistinguishable," Seymour answered darkly, "and an apparently strong taste for Guado."

He didn't seem to want to talk about it anymore, so she didn't press it. They arrived in a chamber that was set up like a makeshift office. There was a rock that was big and flat enough to serve as a desk with rolls of paper and quills and pots of ink. The first thing that must be done was to contact the families of the deceased. This was always Yuna's least favorite part of the job and Seymour didn't appear to like it any more than she did. He unrolled the parchment, smoothed it out, and began to write a letter. Yuna sat on the other side of the desk and wrote the other one. Neither of them talked except for Yuna asking how to spell Lonny's name correctly. She glanced over at him once or twice, but only at his hand moving the quill across the paper. His handwriting was very neat and tightly controlled, giving away a lot of his personality. Her own more playful loopy script seemed wrong for this kind of thing. Seymour sent two couriers with the letters and bags of Gil. A bunch of coins could never add up to a person's life or ever compare to it, but it would give the grieving families some time and resources to handle their situations without the added stresses of financial burden or work on top of the pain. Next there was a list of preparations to be made by that evening. Yuna took the list that Seymour gave her to the kitchens and Tromell oversaw the rearranging of the dining room and the placement of caskets. The bodies were retrieved, cleaned up, redressed, and made to look more presentable and peaceful. That, too, was very hard on everyone. It didn't help that Lonny's face had contorted into a pained grimace—the flesh was rigor-mortised so they had to really work at rearranging things. After the bodies were prepared, there wasn't much more they could do until the actual service started.

"Now you see why I wish to grant Spira an eternal rest," Seymour pointed out to Yuna as the grieving soldiers and servants began to fill the long benches laid end-to-end in two sections, "imagine how much more their families will suffer because of this."

Yuna sighed.

_Just when I was beginning to think you had a shred of humanity left…_ she thought, disappointed.

"Just a little while longer…" Seymour said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She fought every instinct she had to pull away.

"…and they will all sleep. No more tears ever again."

Yuna couldn't help but wonder if the Sinspawn had actually killed the two soldiers or if there even _had_ been a Sinspawn in the first place. But then how would he have dislocated his own shoulder? These constant mental accusations wore her out.

The service began. Seymour, to his credit, managed to make a very moving speech about Lonny and Ada and how brave they had been to face the Sinspawn. According to him, they had placed themselves between Seymour and the Sinspawn to spare his life because he was getting married soon and didn't want Yuna deprived of a husband. This made Yuna sick to her stomach, but she forced a watery smile. No wonder all the Guado were so happy—he played the engagement card very well. She was relieved when he was finished. He returned to her side as the Hymn of the Fayth was sang, then the servants began to rearrange all the furniture again while the pallbearers took the caskets outside to bury. Seymour took Yuna's hand in his and they led the line behind the caskets. The entire thing was so…_dark._

_I don't understand you at all…_ Yuna thought irritably of him, _two of your own people die and all you can talk about is this sham of a wedding that's coming up. I see who you really are._

They watched as the caskets were lowered into the graves and covered. Then it was time to go in and have dinner. Again, Yuna was struck by how hungry she was—she and Seymour had worked right through lunch and her appetite had been temporarily suppressed. Seymour was, of course, sitting beside her though he was probably eating more for show than for actual need. People came up to him and thanked him for his beautiful words. Some of them broke down sobbing which was awkward, but Seymour handled them with an almost supernatural grace. He never objected to them wanting to hug or cry on his shoulder and he always managed to say something that made them feel better or even smile. His voice was deceptively gentle.

_Where has this version been hiding?_ Yuna wondered. She knew it was all a mask, but it was a very good one. It was especially effective when an elderly woman went into hysterics—Seymour had cast some kind of spell on her to calm her down. Yuna wasn't sure what it was, but she could feel the vibration in the air that was always present with magic. After the old lady had begun to smile again and went to be with her fellow servants and friends, Seymour let the mask drop for one small instance. His shoulders were slumping, Yuna noticed. While he probably didn't get physically tired anymore, he probably still got very mind-weary at times.

"You really should get more rest, Maester Seymour. You look a little run-down," someone said. Seymour chuckled darkly. Of _course_ he'd find something like that amusing.

After dinner was over (which took longer than usual because everyone was talking), Seymour informed Tromell that he was heading for his chambers and didn't want to be disturbed. Yuna was relieved—she'd spent most of the day with him and just being in his presence got on her nerves. She decided that she would call it a night, too. She didn't see him behind her, once again, and nearly screamed when she felt his chilling breath on her ear.

"I'll be just down the hall over there if you need anything," he whispered, "or…have a nightmare."

And with that, he was gone. She watched his back retreating and shuddered.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The morning they left came far too soon and far too early. Yuna and Seymour's health had both checked out (other than the obvious him being an Unsent) well and Seymour had decided he didn't want to wait any longer. The sky was still dark when Yuna was forced to abandon her warm bed and try and get dressed while still yawning so widely that her jaw popped. Her stomach trembled, though whether from nerves or the cold, she couldn't have said. Breakfast was early and she ate very little, claiming that she often got travel-sickness in carriages. Tromell gave her a bottle of moon lily extract to sip on if she started feeling ill. She watched the last few items being loaded up and noticed that the purple-haired Guado boy was carrying a brown box over his shoulder. He tripped over something in the nearly nonexistent light and the box went flying. Yuna sprinted to his side.

"Are you all right?"

She helped him up. Both of them heard the heavy tread of the Maester behind them.

"I'm…" the kid gulped "…fine…really…no need to trouble yourself, Lady Yuna."

"There will _be_ trouble if you don't take better care of our things," Seymour said coldly, "something very precious is inside that box."

"My apologies, sir…" the kid responded meekly. He hastily picked up the box, peeked at its contents, and loaded it gingerly into a rear compartment of the carriage as if it were an explosive.

"What was that?" Yuna asked. Seymour either intentionally ignored her or his mind was somewhere else.

"Get in there away from this chill," he told her, "I have to see to a few things before I join you."

She sighed and let Tromell help her in.

The carriage was absolutely beautiful—even though she couldn't yet see it, she knew it had the elaborate scrolls and colors that mimicked the bark patterns in the trees of Guadosalam. It was probably just as colorful, though it was too dark to see the palette chosen. The seats were very soft almost like beds and numerous pillows and cushions had been added. She let out a little gasp of surprise when she sat down and practically sank into the seat. It was easy to forget, if just for a small moment, that everything was being taken from her.

"I feel like royalty," she breathed, talking to herself.

"You are," Seymour's voice replied as he climbed in, "and in a few days, you will be even more so."

She stopped hugging the pillow she'd picked up and hoped that he couldn't smell her face reddening.

"I do hope this makes you a bit more comfortable," he continued, gracefully bending his enormous frame and smoothing his robes out as he sat, "if your travel-sickness strikes, you should be able to lie down. There is a blanket as well."

The way he said it meant that he had taken these extra pains for her.

"Thank you," she said quietly, and she _was_ grateful. Seymour slid his staff under his own seat. Once one of the servants had checked to see that they were situated, the carriage jolted a little bit and began to move. Even though the terrain here wasn't the smoothest, Yuna noticed that the carriage didn't rock—or at least it wasn't noticeable. The swaying of the Chocobos that were pulling it wasn't noticeable either. Surprise registered on her face.

"I doubt you'll have as much trouble with sickness now as in the past," Seymour said, reading her mind, "many have slept in this carriage without being awoken by bumps."

She had begun to think that this was going to be a very awkward ride—she and Seymour were facing each other and it was yet too dark to see anything outside. He shifted, however, to more of a lounging position and rested his head against the back of the seat. The heavy spiked bang of blue-purple hair was in the way, so she couldn't tell if his eyes were closed. His breath had begun to slow, however, so she assumed he'd gone to sleep.

_If only his own staff worked against him,_ she thought wearily. Her fingers itched to take it, but she knew that Seymour could function quite well without a staff. Besides, the staff's owner would become inert in the hands of another. He likely knew that, which was why he had let his guard down so easily. She wondered if the Unsent actually needed sleep the way the living did or if they simply did it to pass the time or if it was a way of clearing one's head. What they knew of the brain was that memories were consolidated and stored during sleep. If you never rested, you'd go insane. Perhaps that was part of the madness of fiends.

The light slowly increased. Outside, the sky turned a dark navy blue, then a soft lighter blue light came in to the carriage. Seymour shifted a little, but he didn't appear to have woken up. One hand rested on his tanned chest just below one of his dragon tattoos. Yuna took an opportunity to study him without risking him catching her staring. In sleep, he looked so much less dangerous. His facial veins had paled a bit, which was similar to human faces paling during sleep. It made him look far less intimidating. The odd horn-like spikes that grew on either side of his head were flattened down by the weight of his skull, again, adding to the softer and more vulnerable appearance. The beads he always wore (which she still never understood the purpose of) glittered against his tanned skin. His lips were slightly parted but not enough to show his teeth. She cautiously stood up and got a little bit closer. When the light hit him just right, she noticed the faint shine of scars all over his neck, chest, and even a couple on his face and hands. Just how many fights had he been in and against what?

Suddenly, the carriage jolted hard and she was thrown into him. Seymour awoke with a jerk and threw his arms around her to keep her from smacking into the floor. She got a face-full of his cold, hard chest and felt a warm trickle of blood in her nose. Shouts from outside confirmed that something bad was going on.

"Stay here, Lady Yuna," Seymour said, helping her right herself. He grabbed his staff and jumped out of the carriage. Yuna peered outside after him. There in the pre-dawn light was another Sinspawn. This one was a mass of tentacles that was slapping at everyone that got too close.

"Stand back!" Seymour shouted. One of the tentacles came toward him with a whiplike crack, but Seymour dodged it with an unnatural speed. Yuna watched his Summoning gesture and wondered which Aeon he had called. An unearthly groan came from the earth as a magical chain descended into it. The same strange creature that had appeared during the Blitzball tournament. The others all around them began to slash at the tentacles with their swords. Those who were mages were casting spells. Seymour and the Aeon stood side by side moving in a strange rhythm. As Yuna watched the Aeon move to take a blow for him, she wondered what connection they had—all the Aeons were somewhat affectionate to their Summoners, but this was different. A blood stain had appeared on Seymour's robes from the stinging lash of the tentacles. Yuna did what she always did when she saw blood: sent a jet of white magic hurling through the air.

Seymour was breathing heavily, sweat shining on his face and chest. The creature's tentacles were poisoned, so he felt the sting of the venom beginning to spread. A burst of white magic hit him in the back and he welcomed it. The green drip from the wound vanished as Yuna followed up Cure with Esuna. It was then that he entered his Overdrive state. The whole world began to slow down as the surge of energy and adrenaline ran through him. He cast Requiem and the Sinspawn died and dissolved into Pyreflies. Seymour dropped to one knee, leaning on his staff for support. The Aeon stretched out one of its hands and placed it on his shoulder.

"Just catching my breath," he assured her, "you may go now."

The Aeon disappeared as well. Yuna walked over to him, the air vibrating around her from the magic she was casting. The wounds vanished and he felt the weakness leave his limbs. He glanced up at her with a stern expression, but she walked away before he could scold her about leaving the carriage. The two of them split up and healed anyone who needed to be healed. Those who were able to drink potions on their own were doing so to keep them from using up their stores of magic unless they ran into any more trouble. Three were dead this time. Yuna thought to Send them, but she remembered that her staff was gone. It was Seymour who ended up performing it. Everyone gathered around to watch, some of them crying. Others just looked shocked or sympathetic. Seymour's expression only betrayed him once: his eyes had closed for just a brief second as the mask settled into place. Then, with an expression of nothing but pure concentration, he started the dance. As he moved, trembling voices all around sang the Hymn. Seymour's robes rustled and snapped in the wind, billowing outward at times and making him look even more unearthly than he already had before. The Pyreflies began to rise up from the dead that were arranged in a triangle around him. One of them seemed to be resisting, but with a motion that almost looked as though he were tugging with his staff, Seymour freed the soul and its Pyreflies joined the others. Yuna was actually impressed—despite his enormous frame, he was far from clumsy or ham-fisted.

_How can this be the same man who wants to destroy the world?_

They buried the bodies a short distance away in the half-destroyed woods. Seymour promised everyone that they would get proper markers for their graves later on. By the time they got back in the carriage, the chilly morning had long-since faded into late afternoon. Seymour let her get in first, then swung in after her. They chose not to talk for the time being. Yuna saw him fidget with his beads once or twice and wondered why he wore them.

"We will be stopping soon," he said quietly. She nodded. It was their only exchange until after sunset. A camp was set up just as the last of the light was fading. Chocobos were fed and led to drink from a little stream that flowed past. Tromell and the others got to work putting up tents and cots and so on.

"Do you need any help?" Yuna asked.

"I appreciate it, my lady," Tromell said, "but we've got it. Perhaps Lord Seymour could use some company, though…something appears to be troubling him."

Yuna followed his gaze. Seymour was standing by the water. She couldn't tell what he was staring at, but it held his attention in an almost rapturous way. Her stomach squirmed as she gathered her courage once again. At first, she thought he was just tired. Now, though, she wasn't sure. Unsent didn't often get tired, did they?

"Tromell sent me to check on you," she blurted out, immediately regretting the words. There was no way she was going to win him over like that.

"Did he?" Seymour didn't look at her. "He worries entirely too much."

"Well…you did seem….kind of…um…" Suddenly, she didn't quite know what to say. Before she could stop herself, she found the next thing being blurted out much to her horror: "Who's that Aeon you Summoned? I've never heard of it before."

"She is called Anima."

"Is it someone you knew?"

Again, the slow blink, the slight grazing of the beads with his fingertips.

"In life, she was my mother."

Yuna stared, not quite believing her ears.

"Anima was…your _mother?_ I'm so…sorry…"

It sounded pathetic even to her ears.

"At first, I was as well," Seymour replied, "but that was years ago. She chose death so that I would have a better chance at living. We are never parted even by death itself."

"That must be hard for both of you."

"She saw it as a necessary sacrifice. Her body was failing her. Death granted her a new form. You should not pity her."

It was time to get to the point.

"So...are you all right? Did you know the three that you Sent?"

"Of course I knew them," he said irritably, "I know most of my people. The sooner I release them all, the better."

_This again…_

"Lord Seymour, what happened to you? Why do you hate life so much?" Yuna finally asked, her voice getting a little firmer.

A bitter chuckle came from the blue-haired Guado.

"Oh, _now_ you want to know? After you've already killed me?"

Ouch. Yuna wasn't sure why that stung, but it did.

"Yes, I want to know," Yuna said, "if you're serious about this marriage, we should at least get to know each other."

"It is better that you do not know," Seymour told her darkly, "you have enough reason to hate me without hearing of my personal tragedies."

He walked away and she got the sense that she'd actually made him angry. Sighing, she went back to join the others.

Dark fell and dinner was cooked and doled out. Seymour had not yet returned.

"Do not worry, Lady Yuna," Tromell assured her, "when Lord Seymour gets in a mood, it is best to let him be."

_But you told me to talk to him earlier,_ she mentally protested. Fed up with Seymour and his attitude when she'd been trying to help him, she went into her designated tent and lay down on her cot. This night was a complete contrast to the other one: warm and uncomfortably humid. It took forever for her to get to sleep after tossing, turning, and trying not to fall off the narrow makeshift bed. She was roused just as the moon was beginning to set by a pair of voices outside:

"There you are, Lord Seymour. I was just beginning to wonder if I should send someone to find you."

"I'm glad you didn't," Seymour's voice replied, "they might have gotten in the way."

"What happened?"

A dark chuckle.

"Oh, nothing much," he said dismissively after a moment, "I had a little game of tag with some fiends in the woods. Quite a good stress-reliever, in fact."

"I saw you and Lady Yuna earlier…did you have an argument?"

"No. She wanted to know about Anima. Then she wanted to know about the rest of my life. I think it is best she doesn't know."

"It might help," Tromell said quietly, "you've always been so stoic and so secretive, even to me…we were not meant to bear our burdens alone."

"And what do you suggest I tell her, then? The poor little half-breed abomination and his dying mother abandoned as a child and expected to live on some Yevon-forsaken island in the middle of nowhere? Or how about when said abomination watched his mother die right in front of him and become some frightening monstrosity? Or when the abomination got back home and his butler became a father to him while his real father was all about charming his people and making them believe he was something close to a god?!"

Yuna winced. It was the first time she'd heard Seymour actually _sound_ angry.

"I only meant that—"

"I know," Seymour cut him off, "but we both know that it does no good to dwell in the days gone by. Leave the little boy in Baaj Temple, Tromell."

"As you wish, Lord Seymour," Tromell said respectfully.

They must have parted ways. Seymour's heavy tread disappeared into the distance. Yuna eventually fell asleep again, but her dreams were troubled. Many of them involved a blue-haired boy sobbing over the broken body of his mother who then turned into an enormous fish-like monster.

The next morning, Yuna was one of the first to rise. She stretched the stiffness out of her arm (she'd lain on it half the night without realizing it), then smoothed out her dress and went outside. Seymour, who apparently hadn't gone to bed, was sitting near the big bonfire. She watched as he manipulated the flames into different designs with his magic.

"Lady Yuna," he said without turning around, "sit with me."

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, knowing she wouldn't like the answer.

"I can smell you."

She was right. She didn't like the answer. Settling next to him on the log, she watched as the flames in his hand dissipated. Lulu had tried to teach her some dark magic at one time, but she could never get the hang of it.

"You need to learn some black magic," he informed her, "offensive spells are invaluable to Summoners at times."

"I've tried a few times," she said, "Lulu was teaching me, but I never did get it."

"I'm not surprised," Seymour replied, looking up at her, "I have seen you fight. You can't even bear the thought of giving someone more than a light tap with your staff."

Yuna felt the blush creeping into her cheeks.

"I was afraid I would break it," she said, looking down at her hands.

"You should be more afraid of the fiends breaking _you._"

He picked his staff up and struck it against the ground with as much force as he could muster. She stared at him, surprised, because he'd frankly just scared the crap out of her.

"See? They are quite strong," he said, sitting back down, "not a scratch to be found."

He leaned it back against the log. Then, he wrapped one arm around her. Her body tensed up and he heard her breath catch in her throat.

"I noticed," he whispered in her ear, "that you seemed unwilling to hit me at all."

She gulped.

"Um….ah….uh…."

"I prefer for us to be on the same side anyway," he said, pretending not to notice her stuttering, "we make quite the team, do we not?"

She didn't want to answer that.

"It was nothing short of amazing, feeling your magic run through my body," Seymour whispered, "when you could have simply let me suffer."

"They were all getting hurt," she replied quietly, her voice feeling as if it was sticking to her throat, "I had to do _something._"

"And you will….your power will grow and you will do things that Spira has only dreamt of."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. Just as she expected, his lips were as icy as his hands. He seemed sadistically amused by the way she cringed, but his arm held her there and kept her from escaping.

"You wanted to know me better," he said smugly, "you can start with getting acquainted with my touch."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The rest of the trip to Bevelle was less eventful with only a few standard fiends. The guards dispatched the weaker ones though Seymour jumped into the fray occasionally. Despite his calm exterior, Yuna could feel his impatience. At first, she believed him to be constantly fighting because he wanted to get to Bevelle faster before his plans could be foiled. When she actually watched him impale fiends with his staff sometimes and rip them apart with magic other times, she realized he was doing it because he seemed to enjoy it. It didn't seem to matter if he got bloodied up or poisoned, he was usually almost smiling at the end as the Pyreflies swirled up around him. The most recent time it happened, he declared that they had "taken enough beatings" for the day and went to wash his staff off in a nearby river.

"A pity," he said in an almost bored tone, watching the water stain red, "I was hoping for more of a challenge."

Yuna turned away from him, sickened.

_He actually wasn't all that bad for traveling company,_ she thought, horrified, _but when he starts doing that…_

Her skin was crawling at this man who was so obsessed with death.

"Lady Yuna, you don't look so well. Are you feeling ill again?"

She smiled weakly.

"A little."

His icy palm caressed her cheek, the magic flowing into her. While the nausea in her stomach lifted, there was one place he could never get: her soul. Her soul was where she always felt the most ill these days.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"I will have them prepare a bed for you first. You can lie down for a while."

They were less than a day away from Bevelle at this point. She closed her eyes wearily, not looking forward to it at all. Her cheek felt like fire against Seymour's palm, but everything was warm in relation to him now.

"You still carry Sin's scent on you," he said, sounding almost sympathetic, "the toxin has yet to come all the way out of your system. I think you have a fever."

Yuna thought to argue and then stopped herself. Let him think that—he might expect less of her if he thought she was sick. He stroked her cheek for a moment longer before letting his hand drop. Much to her annoyance, his cold hand had actually felt _good_ for a change. She didn't resist when someone offered her a chair by the fire. It was good to see that narrow cot in the tent and she didn't want to lift her head from her pillow even for food. She had gone to bed in her clothes, as she didn't even bother to change.

"She doesn't seem to want to wake up," the red-haired servant remarked.

"Let her be," Seymour said, "the less she is awake, the less she will suffer. Make sure you keep up with the potions."

It was a pain not being able to make her feel better—it might improve his reputation the slightest bit in her eyes if he could make this stop, but as powerful of a white mage as he could be at times, he wasn't as powerful as Sin. It was something he strove every day to change. Seymour kept vigil outside Yuna's tent. He never went in, as he had appearances to keep up, but he didn't leave, either. He occupied his brooding mind with what shapes he would take on as Yuna's final Aeon. The last remains of day faded into night and he abandoned the rules of propriety at last. Slipping into the tent, he moved soundlessly. Yuna was mumbling in her sleep. He thought he heard the name "Tidus" at one point. She sounded scared—she was probably having a dream about him. Seymour stroked her forehead and she quieted immediately. Deciding not to press his luck, he backed away from her cot and left the tent.

Sometime during the night, Yuna awoke after her fever had faded. Feeling strange and disoriented, she longed for a glass of water. Sleepily rubbing her eyes, she looked around. There was a table set up by the fire that held pitchers and glasses. After she'd poured her drink, she looked around. The world was painted in soft shades of blue, silver, and black. Sounds of snoring drifted from the tents and crickets were chirping all around. Stray Pyreflies let out their mournful sounds as they wafted past. Yuna had forgotten how beautiful nighttime could be, as it wasn't safe to sleep in the open. She gazed at the sky, at the sharp, thin, crescent moon there surrounded by shimmering stars.

"Quite beautiful, isn't it? And we're the only ones who see it."

Yuna jumped, the glass clattering on the table.

"Oh…Lord Seymour…I didn't see you there…"

The enormous half-Guado chuckled darkly.

"Despite my frame, I am quite good at concealing myself when I want to," he said, appearing from the shadows, "it saved my life a few times."

She watched as the moonlight began to illuminate his skin. It shone in his blue-purple hair and lavender eyes and gave him a strange otherworldly look.

"You don't strike me as the kind of person who would hide from anything," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"And that is why I've made a success at being a Maester," Seymour replied, "by blending into the shadows so seamlessly, you learn things you wouldn't ordinarily find out by more traditional means."

He seemed to be growing more transparent the longer she looked at him. Puzzled, she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he became wraithlike before dissolving into nothingness.

"How…?" she asked, staring at the spot where he'd just been. Seymour rapidly reappeared.

"Unfortunately, there are some secrets I must keep," he whispered, "even from you, Lady Yuna."

"I won't tell anyone," she said stupidly.

"I'm sure you wouldn't," he replied, "but I can't take any chances just the same."

He knew when the thought had crossed her mind because he could smell her anxiety and hear her heart begin to thunder.

"You needn't worry," he said quietly, "I have never used this power for…for anything _improper._ Mostly it serves as an element of surprise for fiends."

"Oh."

They stood together there in the dark for a few minutes before Seymour stroked her cheek. She cringed away from his icy fingertips without meaning to at first. He could smell the uneasiness as she tried to hold still. Her whole body was as rigid as a staff, but she was trying her hardest not to pull away.

"Am I so repulsive to you? There was a time that my touch brought color to your cheeks," he whispered.

"That was before…"

"Before the sphere? Or before _him?_ I heard you whisper his name earlier," Seymour said, now easily an inch or less away from her. Yuna swallowed, her throat suddenly dry again.

"In addition to a very keen sense of smell, I have very good ears as well," the undead man pointed out, "and I must warn you that I have a bit of a jealous streak."

Yuna suppressed a shudder.

"Um…ah…uh…"

She flushed brilliantly. Though it was hard to see in the dim light, Seymour knew that her face was coloring a mixture of mangoes and cherries.

"You're so warm now," he observed, "like a torch. Spira's own flame, Yuna Guado. I hope in the future that I can have this effect on you."

She didn't want to think about that, which of course made her cheeks turn more scarlet. Her eyes closed as she wished she could just disappear. Seymour had an amused smirk as he held her face between his hands. She saw him move in and she could have sworn that her heart stopped.

_Is he going to…_

But he didn't. He pressed his cold lips to her forehead instead. His facial veins darkened as his breath lingered there for a second or two. Then, he released her.

"You should go back to bed," he said suddenly, "there will be a great deal of preparations to make tomorrow including the fitting of your dress."

It wasn't the first time she'd sensed something off about him, but he seemed to be actively struggling against something. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead and cheeks and Pyreflies began to flicker around him.

"Maester Seymour, are you all right?"

He clutched both hands over his heart and shuddered violently. Then, he straightened and the spell was over as fast as it had begun. Clearly embarrassed, he cleared his throat.

"Just a side effect of being an Unsent," he said, again adopting the cool, indifferent mask, "it happens from time to time."

"Does it hurt?" she asked, frowning.

"It is a mere inconvenience," he said, a tiny bit of annoyance creeping in, "and I don't want this mentioned to anyone."

"All right…"

She slunk back to her tint, feeling very unsettled. He breathed a sigh of relief, sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree. Pressing his hands against where his heart used to be, his mind began to race. He was beginning to regret what he had done to gain so much power. Absorbing another person's Pyreflies made him stronger, but the side effect was that memories and emotions would surface—emotions and memories that weren't his. The most common one was anger, but the one that had happened tonight was one he hadn't felt very often: lust. It had hit him like a tsunami and left him nearly powerless in its grip. If there was one thing Seymour hated more than anything else, it was losing control of situations. He was horrified to think of what might happen if he wasn't able to control it. What if it happened during battle, or worse? What if it happened when they were intimate? He didn't want to scare her. Everything hinged on her learning to trust him. Out of frustration, he punched the tree and ignored the stinging pain. Breathing heavily, he stalked off into the woods. He needed some exercise.

The moon was dipping lower in the sky when he returned. Spattered with blood from the fiends he'd destroyed, he went into his own tent and scrubbed away the gore. He reclined on the cot though he never actually went to sleep. The tension now out of his body, he felt far less crazy. When it was time to pack up camp and go on, he felt no trace of the strangeness from last night. Yuna, however, seemed even more cautious. She seemed very watchful and stuck closer to him than she ordinarily would. She even held his hand. He couldn't deny that he was enjoying it, but he had the suspicion that she believed him to be dangerous. It was a mixed blessing to say the least.

"What are you afraid of, Lady Yuna?" he asked her as they got into the carriage.

"You seemed…ill…last night," she said carefully, "I was worried about that."

"That's very sweet," he observed, "though I must wonder if the concern is for me or for the others."

"Both," she said honestly.

"I see," he responded, almost sounding disappointed. His clawed thumb traced the veins in the back of her hand, tracing the pattern there.

"Is it better today?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes."

Nothing else was said on the way to Bevelle. They arrived there during early afternoon. Yuna was whisked away to undergo the fitting and so forth after lunch and she didn't get back to the hotel they were staying at until late that night. She collapsed on the bed, exhausted.

"Would you like me to bring you something from the kitchen?" the servant asked.

"Yes, please," she said. She was glad that Seymour wasn't asking for her company tonight. The servant returned with a steaming bowl of stew and a generous portion of bread. She eagerly ate all of it before promptly going to sleep. She didn't understand how being around Seymour could drain her so much. She was used to acting happy around Tidus because he didn't realize what was eventually going to happen to the Summoners that faced Sin—but it was different then. It was because she cared about him that it became easier. She wanted Tidus to be happy. But Seymour…would anything in the world make him happy? It was exhausting to pretend to like someone when all you wanted to do was run away.

The next morning, the preparations continued. She was sent to a spa for the day. Whether this was supposed to be a nice gesture on Seymour's part or just to impress her, she wasn't sure. While she was massaged, bathed, pampered, and just generally fussed over, she found her mind continuously occupied against her will. What were the others doing right now? Where was Sin? And for that matter, what was Seymour doing all day? Even after she returned to the hotel, there was no sign of him. She pretended it didn't matter. She occupied herself that evening by making small-talk with the servants.

"I apologize," she said to the red-haired servant, "I haven't even gotten your name yet."

"It's not important, Lady Yuna," she said modestly.

"I would like to know your name, please," Yuna insisted.

"It's Gem, my lady."

"Nice to officially meet you, Gem. I've had so much on my mind lately that I've been neglecting everybody."

"I would argue that you haven't neglected anyone, Lady Yuna," Gem replied, "and anyway, we understand. Getting married is a big deal. Two _Summoners_ getting married…that's rare…but after all the unhappiness that Lord Seymour has had, I'm sure it's going to be a blessing for us all."

"It's been that bad, has it?" Yuna asked, "I mean, his past."

Gem opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. She turned Yuna's bedcovers down for her.

"It was difficult…but I will let him tell you. It isn't my place to talk about it no matter what I hear—you understand, right?"

"Of course."

Yuna got in bed and Gem smoothed her covers over her in a very motherly fashion. Though the Guado woman was only about five or six years older than she was, she had a very maternal air about her. Her green eyes shone brilliantly in the dark as she checked that everything was in order before leaving.

"Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Gem. Can't you just call me Yuna?"

"That wouldn't be proper," Gem said with a mischievous grin, "so I mustn't let anyone hear me."

Yuna lay awake for a long time. After a while, it became clear that she wouldn't be able to go to sleep, so she got up and went to look out the window. Bevelle was beautiful…she just wished she could enjoy it as much as everyone else was. Tomorrow night, she would be…

Yuna gulped. Tomorrow, everything changed. She would be married. She would be…no, she didn't want to think about it. Life was difficult enough without imagining the dreaded consummation, of being crushed under Seymour's massive frame.

_I will have to find a way to get my staff back before then…_

Her heart was thundering up a storm. She felt suffocated quite suddenly and decided she couldn't stay in here for a minute longer. She got up and tiptoed silently out of the room still in her nightgown. Thankfully, this one was a dark blue, so it helped her blend into her surroundings. She crept out into the hallway, listening to everyone still talking. One of those voices that she heard was Seymour's.

"Do you really trust her enough to return the staff?" Tromell was asking.

"Not really, no. But she needs it," Seymour was telling him, "she won't stay put where it is safe no matter how much I tell her I'm dead, that the fiends can't do much more than maim me. I would simply rematerialize anyway. She can't stand the sight of blood. I can smell the fear that comes over her."

"What if she tries to Send you?" Tromell asked.

"I'm sure she will," Seymour replied, "but my hold over Spira is so great that I will only return even if it takes a few days. You needn't be afraid to lose me again."

"So…now where is the staff?"

"That incompetent boy had it before we left, but I asked Reya to take it. She's quiet, so she won't tell anyone about it and she's far less clumsy, so she won't break it either. She will return the staff to Lady Yuna in a few days. By then, we should have had a chance to…bond."

Yuna suppressed a shudder of disgust, then realized with horror that they were coming around the corner. For lack of a better idea, she ducked under a nearby table and hoped that Seymour couldn't smell her. Fortunately, there was a window open nearby to let in some fresh air and the air current carried her scent away from him.

"Forgive me, my lord, but she seems rather uneasy…" Tromell observed.

"Yes, I know," Seymour said, annoyance creeping into his usual smug coldness, "what of it?"

"I was only going to say be patient with her," Tromell said cautiously, knowing he was on dangerous ground, "I think she's still in shock."

Seymour glanced down the hall at where he knew Yuna's room to be.

"It will come with time," he said, "she is so strong. Quiet, but strong-willed. She will need someone to keep her in check at times."

As soon as they'd gone back inside the room, Yuna let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. When she crept out from under it, she didn't realize there was a vase sitting there. It shook dangerously and she seized it before it could fall and crash. Breathing a sigh of relief, she righted it and set off to look for this Reya.

It took a lot longer to find her than she'd expected. Yuna had thought to check _all_ the rooms one by one, but that would be time-consuming and very risky. She snuck down to the front desk, thumbed through the guest book, and found Reya's name. It was fortunate for her that the innkeeper was wasted on alcohol and was snoring noisily rather than doing his job. She crept back upstairs, found Reya's room, and found it locked. Sighing, she went back downstairs, got the key, and went back up. That was a time-consuming process on its own: she'd had to unclip the master key from the innkeeper's belt, unlock the safe that had all the other keys, take the right one, put the master key back, then go back upstairs. She hoped Reya wasn't awake.

Reya was a middle-aged Guado with sky-blue hair. She was clearly one of the warriors because her suit of armor decorated a chair nearby. Yuna crawled through the shadows and peered under the bed first. A thin, flat box was her prize: she pried the lid off and found her staff. Breathing a sigh of relief, she clutched it to her chest. She was never so happy to see it in her life. Then, thinking quickly, she knew she had to replace the staff with something else or risk them finding out that it was gone. She noticed a small broom in the corner that was roughly the same weight and put it in the box. Then, she returned the key downstairs just as the clock was chiming two. All this exercise and sneaking around was making her tired. She hurried back upstairs. Trying to figure out how she was going to smuggle the staff to the wedding was a little bit tougher…how was she going to get it past all the guards? They'd definitely notice something like this.

Her eyes fell on the finished wedding dress on the mannequin in the corner. It was beautiful, but it was like the ghost in the house that nobody wanted to talk about. Shining silvery-white in the moonlight, the plumes of feathers whispered softly in the breeze from the window she'd left open earlier. It was then that Yuna had one last brilliant idea: the dress itself was too short to conceal the staff, but the train wasn't. She retrieved a needle and thread from Gem's room, which was mercifully unlocked, and set to work. In order to grab the staff easily, she had to make stitches that would break easily only if pulled a certain way. She also had to get the feathers all tucked around it so that it wouldn't clank against the floor or be visible. This took a very long time. By the time Yuna had stashed all the evidence and gone back to bed, it was nearly five in the morning. It seemed as though she'd only just closed her eyes when Gem was gently shaking her awake.

"Lady Yuna…it's time," she said gently.

It was remarkable how not being defenseless at last improved her appetite. When she didn't see Seymour at breakfast, Gem explained that he and Tromell had already gone to the chapel to check up on some things. Plus it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. Yuna devoured her very rich omelet, pastries, and coffee and then was taken to have her hair and makeup done. Someone rubbed a skin potion on her eyes to take the puffiness and redness down from lack of sleep. Though her shorter hair was rarely tangled and stick-straight, she could swear they pulled half of it out as they tugged and rearranged it into an elaborate updo and pinned and gelled it. By the time the whole thing was over, she scarcely recognized herself at all. There were layers and layers of makeup, so much so that she felt like she was wearing a second skin. Her scalp was stinging a bit from its rough treatment, and she wondered if this was how Seymour felt every day—not the part about the makeup and hair, but the part about looking completely different than he might be feeling on the inside. She was helped into her dress and a tiara and veil were placed on her head just before she got in the carriage. She felt the hard, smooth handle of her staff through the layers of material and was comforted by it pressing into her leg. She looked like an avenging angel.

Upon arriving, she was fussed over even more. Her replies were quiet and polite, voice no longer shaking. The procession assembled. Then, she caught sight of Seymour coming towards them.

He had traded his brightly colored robes for more formal black and white attire. They were closed around his shoulders and chest, which was probably uncomfortable for him, but he didn't show it. His horn-like locks of hair had been tied back and partially hidden by a white hat. Only his bent-spike of a bang still draped carelessly over one side of his forehead. She hated to admit it, but he actually looked kind of _nice._ As they were going up the stairs, Seymour leaned in and whispered, "You look beautiful."

"So do you," she replied, then catching herself, her face reddened and the stuttering began: "….I mean, uh…ah…um…"

His answer was a quiet chuckle. He gave her hand a little squeeze and they emerged into the daylight of Bevelle. There were hordes of cheering people all around. Yuna couldn't help but feel a stab of sympathy for them. They didn't know what danger their beloved Maester was to them. They would be very put out here in a little while. She tried to watch where she was going in order to keep from letting on that she was timing something.

_They're all holding guns…_ she thought darkly, _it's as if they expect something to happen. _

"Lord Seymour? Why are there so many people carrying guns?"

"All of Spira knows we're getting married today, Lady Yuna," he answered, still looking straight ahead, "so we must naturally take some precautions. Do not trouble yourself about them."

He led her up to Maester Mika who was the one conducting the ceremony. Yuna bowed her head, gathering her breath to recite her vows. She tried to imagine some fantastical rescue, Tidus and the others charging their way through the guards and distracting them long enough for her to Send Seymour and run. She hoped so much that she could almost hear his voice taunting Seymour in her ears. But nothing like that happened. Seymour repeated his vows and placed his hands on her shoulders. He pressed his lips into hers quite forcefully—so much, in fact, that her breath froze in her lungs. What surprised her was that his lips were _warm._ So were his hands, in fact. How was _that_ possible? The entire thing only lasted a second or two, but it felt like a lot longer. All around them, people were congratulating them and clapping. The throngs of people below in the crowds roared with happiness. Yuna's lip trembled, but she bit it hard. They went inside the temple for a short reception, then the couple was taken back to the inn for some "alone time".

"What is it that troubles you so? You smell terrified," Seymour asked as the door closed behind him. It may as well have been a cell door to a prison slamming shut. Yuna clutched her arms around her body suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

"I…um….nothing. I just need a minute…"

She sounded very out of breath.

"Very well," he said patiently, "take your time."

She went into the bathroom and closed the door. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she pressed her hands to her temples. Trying to pull herself together through the growing hysteria, she asked herself what she had really been hoping for at the ceremony. The little bit of dinner she had eaten was now churning in her belly. It had been wonderful, really, but she hadn't been able to enjoy it. She had been so distracted that she'd knocked over a wine glass.

_Maybe I can Send him when he falls asleep next…_

She didn't get a chance to finish that thought. A bunch of chaos had erupted in the hallway. She heard screams and the sounds of guns being fired.

"Tromell, what's going on?" Seymour asked, clearly irritated.

"Lady Yuna's guardians!" he answered. Yuna burst out of the bathroom and promptly tripped over the train of her skirt. Seymour stood over her, his arms crossed and his expression pure venom.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say you planned all this," he spat.

"I didn't, I swear! I didn't know they were coming!" Yuna pleaded, tears filling her eyes as she rubbed her carpet-burned knees.

"Oh? And I suppose you didn't plan to Send me, either?"

Yuna followed his gaze. Her staff had come loose when she'd tripped—it was now laying fully exposed on the carpet. Seymour picked it up and tossed it to her.

"By all means, try," he said with a dark sneer, "Send me."

There was some sort of trick involved—there had to be. She had the carrot, but where was the stick?

"What should we do with them?" Tromell asked. Yuna walked past Seymour into the hallway. All five of her guardians were laying unconscious in a big pile. All of them were soaked in blood.

"That depends on Lady Yuna," Seymour said coolly. Yuna dropped to her knees beside them, her hand stroking Tidus's hair. Tidus…she never thought she'd see him again.

"I will give you—and them—one last chance," Seymour explained to her, holding his own staff now, "I siphoned your magic reserves while you were asleep. Any that you regain beyond a certain point belongs to me thanks to a spell of my own invention. You hold just enough in your reserves to heal them all. Or you could waste your energy and time trying to Send me, though I will return and your friends will be dead."

For good measure, he gave Tidus a rather hard kick in the ribs. Yuna winced at the noise the impact made. Tears began to stream down her cheeks.

"Stop it!" she demanded, catching hold of his leg and clinging to it, "How can you be this cruel?"

He felt her tremble, but kept his arms crossed over his chest, clearly unmoved.

"You'd best hurry. Your favorite there is losing too much blood."

Sobbing, Yuna retrieved her staff. She cast the spell on all of them and watched as their wounds vanished. One by one, they revived.

"Yuna!"

Tidus threw his arms around her. She buried her face in his shoulder for a second. Only the click of the guards' weapons could break the emotional scene.

"Come with us!" he hissed in her ear.

"I can't…"

"But-"

"Please leave now," she begged, "and don't try to find me again. It's too late…"

"I'm gonna kill that Seymour!"

But his hand came up empty, as the guards had confiscated their weapons.

"Are you? With what? That irritating voice of yours?" Seymour asked coyly.

Tidus growled under his breath, but he was right.

"I can't watch you die again," Yuna pleaded, "if you really care about me that much, go. It's what's best for everyone."

Before she could say anything else, however, all the guardians were handcuffed, blinded, and silenced. Seymour dragged Yuna back inside the room.

"Take them to the prison," Seymour commanded, "I want them all separated and under twenty-four hour watch. If they escape, there will be Hell to pay, understood?"

"But—"

He turned on her.

"Not another word!"

The guards made sure she stayed in the room. Seymour followed the guards out to make sure they didn't do something stupid. She saw her staff laying a few feet away from where he'd carelessly dropped it. And she began to pray.

_I have no magic left, no hope left…if you see fit to rescue me from this situation, please do it…_

Yuna walked out to the balcony to see Seymour returning. The cart that held her friends was rushing off at a rapid speed. Her heart started to pound. Just like that, she felt her magic returning. Seymour must have felt it as well, for he started to sprint. Yuna made the Summoning gesture and Valefor appeared, hovering over the edge of the balcony. She leapt on her back and was carried away.

Seymour saw the reddish shape above. Furious, he summoned his own Valefor, which was quite a bit stronger than Yuna's due to more training.

"Follow her!" he commanded, climbing on her back. His Valefor surged into the air. If it was a fight she wanted, it was a fight they would have.

Yuna's Valefor streaked through the air toward the carriage. Yuna cast Esuna several times in rapid succession, freeing them from their blindness and silence. Though they had no weapons, the confusion and the Energy Blast that Valefor spat at the guards was enough to give them a head-start. Yuna raised her arms in victory, enjoying the rush despite the tense situation. She saw them fleeing for the woods and commanded Valefor to keep everyone off of them. Things appeared to be going quite well until Valefor screamed as a fireball exploded on her hip.

"Seymour!"

"Very impressive," he said as his Valefor aimed another fireball at hers, "but you forgot that I had wings, too."

"You won't get away with this!" Yuna snapped.

"Oh, but I will."

He raised his staff and a Thundaga spell hit them both. Yuna screamed in pain, holding tight to her Valefor's neck as they hurtled towards the ground. Valefor managed to right herself, but she was badly injured. Yuna healed her, but the assault of spells continued. They came not only from Seymour, but the other Guado guards as well. It was both an impressive and terrible sight as the two Aeons held a dog-fight above Bevelle in the sunset. Seymour sent a lethal-looking ice-spike through her Valefor's wing and the poor Aeon was suddenly crippled beyond hope. It slammed into the water, dragging them both under. Yuna's scream of pain (for the ice had cut her leg) turned into a helpless gurgle as her breath bubbled out of her lungs. Valefor vanished in a fountain of Pyreflies as she struggled to escape the undertow of the ocean.

"Let's get her out," Seymour told his Valefor. The Aeon obediently swooped into the water, grabbed an almost-drowned Yuna with her talons, and hauled her out. Seymour pulled Yuna onto Valefor's back and they headed back to the hotel. He took away Yuna' s remaining magic and began draw the water out of her lungs with his own magic. Then, he silenced her for good measure.

_Never again,_ he thought angrily. The first thing he would do was put a bounty out for the guardians. He had enough money that he could afford any price. As soon as his unconscious, injured wife was tended to, he wrote up the contract and told Tromell to put the word out.

"I'm tired of this little game of hers," he said irritably, "we won't make any progress on her pilgrimage with all these interruptions."

Tromell had the good sense not to argue.

When Yuna awoke, she still felt quite sore. Lifting her arms, she noticed that there were no longer any burns on them, but faint traces of pink still showed where her injuries were healing. She noticed that her torn, bloodied wedding dress had been replaced with a short pale purple nightgown. Lifting the covers of the bed, she saw that her legs were healing, too. She shivered violently, still feeling the sting of the ice as it had torn through her flesh. Poor Valefor…she hoped that the Aeon would forget her pain soon. She went to cast another healing spell on herself to finish the job only to discover that she couldn't speak.

_Oh no…_

"I will miss hearing your voice," Seymour said, entering the room, "but it's for the best. I'm sure you understand."

Yuna shrank under the covers.

"You caused us quite a bit of trouble today," he pointed out, "imagine the inconveniences…your Aeon started several fires, your guardians are now wanted criminals for the murders of some of my guards, and then there's that little matter of me never being able to trust you again. I'm afraid our marriage isn't off to a very good start."

He closed the door behind him. The lock clicked sinisterly just before his cold lavender gaze settled on her.

"Despite all that, however, I must admit that I'm very impressed. You're beginning to think as I do."

Yuna gulped. Despite the fact that no words passed her lips, he could tell that she was feeling insulted by that statement. He crossed the room and came to sit on the bed beside her.

"It pains me that I must treat you like a prisoner," he said, sounding almost sad, "I have always loved the sound of your voice."

He placed his hand against the side of her face. Again, it was strange that his palm felt hot. The puzzlement registered on her face.

"Impressive, is it not? The Unsent have many secrets of avoiding detection. Of course, the heat is only an illusion from a potion Tromell created. It masks the coldness for a few hours so that my touch feels more natural to you."

Yuna wanted to shout that it didn't matter what temperature he was, that she didn't want him touching her. He turned her face towards hers and kissed her. She tried to pull away, but her struggle was weak. This only seemed to make him want it more. His breath became ragged with desire, hers with tears. It was annoying, but he waited until those were gone before continuing. The thought of her crying when they were joining didn't appeal to him.

"There was a time when you wanted me," he reminded her, "I could smell it. Your curiosity. Do you remember that day in Luca when I first came off the ship? So many faces in that crowd, but yours is the only one I remembered."

He ran his fingers through her hair, trailing kisses down her neck.

"Then, there was that time we fought together. Your blood quickened at the sight of me beating back fiends and protecting your friends. Think back on those times…"

She remembered her stomach quivering nervously and how she felt like a silly little girl compared to him. She hadn't wanted him to leave just yet, but he'd had other things to tend to. She'd never had much of a physical reaction to him beyond a warmth in her stomach, as there hadn't been time to develop that, but she'd been excited when he'd first asked her to marry him (though she'd never have admitted to that). His hands trailed down her sides now with an uncharacteristic tenderness, the artificial warmth from his palms soaking into her skin.

"Relax," he commanded, "you won't enjoy it if you're so tense."

She wanted to scream in his face that she wouldn't anyway, but she couldn't. He slid the shoulder straps of the gown off. She began to disassociate after that, forcefully remembering happier times in as great of detail as she could muster. She had to try especially hard when she felt the cool air in the room hit her bare skin. Seymour had been wearing a black robe with apparently nothing underneath. After he tugged the sash loose and let it slide away, she could see everything even with the lights dimmed so much. She squeezed her eyes shut, trembling. To his credit, Seymour was very careful not to hurt her though she was sure the temptation was there. The mandatory pain of the first time was gone as quickly as she registered it, replaced by the tingle of magic that came from a Cure spell. She supposed she ought to thank him for that, but she wasn't in the mood. At least it didn't hurt. She felt herself being pushed further into the cloudlike bed they were on and instead pretended she was somewhere on Besaid Beach lying on the warm sand. She was with her friends and as far away from this situation as she could get. She ignored his invasive kisses and even more invasive touches for as long as she could. Then, at last, it was over. Seymour rolled onto his side, his breath still heavy. He pulled her into his arms and curled his body around her protectively. Not wanting him to look at her face, Yuna hid it in his chest and closed her eyes. The potion he'd had to make himself feel warm was wearing off—his fingers were cooling rapidly and it felt as if a glacier were stroking her hair. She began to shiver a little in her state of half-sleep until he got up to take another one.

_I'm so tired…_she thought numbly. Seymour returned to the bed. She hoped he would just leave her alone now that she'd rolled over on her other side, but he curled around her again. This time, they were spooning. Yuna pressed her face into the pillow she was hugging and screamed though no sound was actually being made. Just feeling the air forcefully expelled out of her lungs made her feel better. She felt Seymour's breathing slow and wondered if he was actually asleep or not.

_If only I had waited a little longer…_ she thought glumly. She could have Sent him right now, but now she'd likely never get her staff back. She wondered how her guardians were and imagined them all circling a campfire. What would happen to all of them now?


	5. Chapter 5

Yuna lingered in sleep as long as she could. She held onto her dreams which took her to peaceful places and happier times. Seymour only slept for a little while, lingering in a semi-drowsy state. Cradling Yuna in his arms, he stroked her hair. A sigh of discontentment escaped his lips as his thoughts turned to the darkness within. She hadn't enjoyed the consummation of their marriage one bit—he could tell. She may have surrendered her body to him, but the distant glassiness of her eyes told him that she had blocked him out of her mind and heart. It was one of the most intense forms of rejection a woman could give to a man. His irritable mind tried to rationalize it, but the fact remained that she wasn't as warm to him as he would have liked. And deep down, he knew he couldn't blame her. If only his father hadn't dropped the damn sphere…he could kill Jyscal all over again for that.

_No…_

A Pyrefly materialized on his arm and floated away. It didn't leave, it just whirled around him like an angry wasp. Two or three more of them followed. Seymour snatched at them fruitlessly while trying not to jolt Yuna. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. As quickly and gently as he could, he untangled himself from Yuna and got out of the bed.

_Leave me alone!_

Then, the memories took over. The Pyreflies that he'd accidentally absorbed from his father when he realized he'd had that ability were taking over. Seymour dropped to the floor and breathed heavily, his eyes squeezed shut. The phantom magic that had killed Jyscal could now be felt all over his body, assaulting him. Burns from magical fire, the keen sting of frost, the sharp cramping of muscle caused by electricity. The Pyreflies swarmed him, inflicting these ghostly wounds all over him. Though they didn't mark the skin, the pain they caused was more than real enough. He tried so hard to stay quiet, reminding himself that this was all a hallucination. Through the haze of transparent memories that were rapidly turning more opaque, he could just vaguely make out Yuna's face peering over the side of the bed.

Yuna woke when she heard him fall. Frightened, she wondered if Tidus and the others had been foolish enough to come after her again. When she didn't see anyone else in the room, she couldn't understand what had happened. She tried to speak to him, but the Silence spell was still in effect. It was then that she noticed all the Pyreflies.

_I wonder if I should do something…_

He was clearly in a lot of pain, but she didn't know if any of the potions they had would cure him or not. She retrieved a Remedy that was in salve form (as if a person was confused or poisoned, they might not be able to drink it) and rubbed it into his skin. It didn't seem to work and she began to get worried despite all that he had done to her. Feeling more helpless than she ever had in her entire life, she could only cradle him and try to keep him from injuring himself as he fought an unseen enemy. As if the swarm of Pyreflies wasn't bad enough, she noticed something else that was odd: while he'd been warm earlier from the warmth potion, he was burning up as though he had a fever. The veins in his face were flushed so dark that they almost appeared black and his pulse throbbed in them so hard that she was afraid they would burst. Suddenly, the heaviness in her throat was lifted—the Silence had broken. Right about then, a stinging impact of his hand against her face knocked her over. Eyes tearing from pain, Yuna scrambled away from him. She snatched her nightgown and yanked it over her head, not even noticing that it was inside out. Badly frightened and now bleeding from a gash on the inside of her cheek, she pounded on the locked door.

"HELP!" she howled just as the whoosh of Blizzaga chilled the air behind her, "HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE!"

The doorknob shuddered in her hand as someone hastily unlocked it. Tromell barged into the room and knocked her backward. Yuna fell and a sharp pain made her vision go white for a second.

"Lord Seymour!" Tromell gasped.

"I don't know what's wrong with him! He was fine when we went to bed!" she exclaimed, ashamed that all this was coming out in a sob, "He did it one other time before, but nothing happened other than the Pyreflies!"

Tromell dodged a Fire spell.

"How long has he been like this?" The elderly Guado looked every bit as panicked as she felt.

"For at least ten minutes now," she said, gingerly touching her cheek, "he isn't responding to anything."

A Thundara blast knocked them both off their feet.

"There is nothing for it right now but to drain his magic and hope he comes out of it soon," Tromell sighed regretfully, "and keep him from injuring himself or us."

Tromell was forced to Silence his master. The spells stopped, though Seymour was still thrashing around. Before long, though, he began to slow and eventually went limp. More Pyreflies swirled around him though their movements were much less erratic and frenzied than before. Tromell was sweating from the exertion of trying to pin the large half-Guado to the floor and he was bleeding from one nostril. It vanished after a moment, however, and Yuna wondered how much power Tromell actually had.

"You're bleeding," he said sympathetically, "how did this happen?"

"He struck me," Yuna lamented, "but I don't think it was on purpose. Something scared him."

The pain slowly subsided and so did the taste of her blood as Tromell's magic flowed into her face.

"That's not a good sign, I'm afraid," Tromell said darkly, "I have only seen Lord Seymour frightened on two or three occasions and he's more dangerous then than when he is angry. Something must be bothering him very much to get him in such a state."

With great difficulty, they dragged Seymour back up onto the bed. Yuna's face blushed brilliantly as she got her first good look at her unclothed husband and she hastily retrieved the robe and started trying to stuff him back into it. Without a word, Tromell helped by lifting him up so that they could get the other arm into the sleeve.

"Tromell, why does this happen? Do all the Unsent have fits like this where the Pyreflies come out?" Yuna asked.

"Not that I am aware of. Of course, Lord Seymour has always been extraordinary in many, many cases. I would be very cautious with him if I were you. It wouldn't do for him to become so distressed during a battle or other crucial event."

"No. It wouldn't."

The rest of the night was sleepless. Tromell had fallen asleep in the chair by the bed. Yuna couldn't sleep, but she was afraid to try and leave, lest Seymour hurt someone else. He seemed to be out cold for the time being, but she didn't really know what rules the Unsent went by. She also had no earthly idea where they were or where her clothes and staff were and she wasn't stupid enough to try and run off in this flimsy nightgown. It was embarrassing to have Tromell see her in it, but it would have been worse if she'd been nude like Seymour. She occupied herself by finding little things to do: scrubbing the sweat off of his face, cleaning up her own wounds, and finally getting the covers rearranged over him where he wouldn't freeze to death. Despite how tired, hot, and sweaty she was from the exertion, she eventually grew chilled and had to retreat under the covers. After a while, her eyes began to sting. Neither Seymour nor Tromell were awake to see her tears stemming from the exhaustion. Eventually, sometime in the morning, she finally dropped off again and retreated into the blissful darkness.

Seymour stirred with a groan. For being a dead man, he felt absolutely terrible.

"Tromell? What happened?" he asked groggily.

"I'm afraid you've had another…episode…my lord," Tromell said with a yawn, "you gave your poor bride quite a fright."

"She is lucky. She didn't experience what I did first-hand," Seymour said, voice heavy with self-disgust, "how humiliating…"

"I'm sure she'll understand, my lord. Though strained your relationship might be, she is still as compassionate as ever."

"Did I hurt her?"

"A little, I'm afraid, but I've patched her up."

Seymour clutched his arms to his chest, staring at the covers.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted for the first time in forever, "these spells are getting worse. It was a matter of time before someone else discovered it. What will she think of me? What will the other Guado think? If they find out what's going on, they'll have me Sent for sure…"

"This may have been a blessing in disguise," Tromell pointed out, "perhaps Lady Yuna can help you."

"You _don't_ understand," Seymour hissed, "for people like me, there is only _one_ cure and that particular one will render all we've done for naught."

Tromell's gaze was sad, but he nodded obediently.

"What must I do?" he asked.

"For now, don't let anyone else find out. I will deal with my wife."

"Yes, my lord."

Seymour got out of bed.

"Should I wake the lady?" Tromell asked.

"No. Let her sleep," Seymour responded, "for her, bliss is ignorance. Right now, she's probably with that spiky-haired loudmouth and that rabble she calls her guardians. I do not wish to compete with that at the moment."

He said so because he knew he couldn't. Trying not to dwell on his negative thoughts, he had a quick bath and got dressed. He did so under the pretense that a Maester's work was never done and he had letters to answer, but the truth was that he couldn't face Yuna. Not after that terrible night…he was running away and he knew it which only increased his self-loathing. He knew he had to get his emotions under control or risk another Pyre-swarm. Nothing dulled the mind quite like tedious paperwork. Perhaps he'd have a drink right along with it.

Yuna awoke by herself. The spot where Seymour had lain was already smoothed out and the coolness of the sheets told her that his potion had worn off yet again. Sighing, she looked around. The bathroom door was closed, maybe he had gone in there. When she knocked meekly and there was no answer, she poked her head in the door. No Seymour. Frowning, she twisted a strand of hair around her finger thoughtfully. It was strange that she'd find his absence almost offensive, but it was. He'd gone on and on about how she'd grow to love him and how they were on this great adventure together and now he had vanished without a trace. After she'd stood there for a moment, she noticed a note tucked into the mirror frame. Recognizing the graceful, slanted script as Seymour's handwriting, she unfolded it and sat down on the closed toilet lid.

_Dearest Yuna,_

_ I regret that I cannot be with you this morning. I had some urgent business to attend to that could not wait. I will try my best to hurry so that I may take you to see Bevelle before we get your next Aeon and go on. I apologize greatly for last night and hope there is some way I can make it up to you._

_ Seymour._

Yuna folded the note back up and placed it on the counter. She wondered how it was possible to despise another human being so much, yet feel so much pity for them.

"Did you really have something to do or can you simply not look me in the face?" she sighed, "Or both?"

Gem brought her some breakfast and some new clothes to wear. There was a royal blue dress that seemed to be made more of air than fabric, as it ruffled and floated at the slightest breath of air. There were silver sandals that were both functional and very pretty-looking as they didn't have heels and a set of hair clips that had tiny sapphires in them. She hardly recognized the moon-goddess-like figure in the mirror after she was done getting ready.

"He'll love this," Gem gushed, "he always has loved this color. He says it reminds him of Macalania Forest. It's second only to shade of green that Guadosalam has."

"Get both and they'll match my eyes," Yuna joked, aware of how lame it sounded immediately.

"Or you could have something in silver to match this temple," Gem said, "it's fortunate they let us all stay here in these underground rooms."

"We're in the temple?" Yuna asked.

"Of course. Lord Seymour couldn't think of a safer place to be, what with that massive fiend attack on the city yesterday. That bunch of criminals must have really wanted you both dead!"

The blood drained from Yuna's face as she realized what must have happened. Seymour had convinced people that the two Valefors were probably a rare fiend variant and that her guardians were the criminals. More than likely, he'd Summoned Anima for good measure, just because everybody knew she was his Aeon specifically. It wouldn't have been hard to rig something like that at all. He'd planned everything else, hadn't he? And when he hadn't, he was a master at improvising. She felt sick to her stomach. Every _single time_ she dared feel sorry for him, he ended up doing something like this.

"Are you all right, Lady Yuna? You look a little bit pale," Gem said.

"I'm fine," she said politely, forcing a smile, "when did Maester Seymour say he was returning?"

"He should be here any minute…you were up so late that he wanted us to let you sleep in. It's afternoon already."

"Oh. All right."

Seymour arrived shortly after that. He seemed very calm, very collected. It didn't take long for Yuna to find out why. When he leaned in to kiss her, she smelled alcohol on his breath. The fumes weren't strong enough to be terribly offensive, but it bothered her that this was how he was handling his problems. She forced a smile and even returned the kiss, noticing that his lips were again icy. Instead of trying to hold her hand, he took her elbow where the fabric of her dress offered her at least a tiny bit of insulation.

"I've always wondered," she said as they ascended the stairs, "what does a Maester do exactly?"

"Surely you would want to hear about something more interesting?" Seymour countered, helping her into the carriage.

"Is it that bad?" she asked.

"What you have seen on the way here was an exception to the norm, I'm afraid," Seymour said as they got going, "the people of Spira love to talk about watching us run fiends out of temples and perform Sendings. What they do not see is all the dreadfully dull paperwork that goes on behind the scenes. A lot more of my time is occupied by that than I would prefer. A vast majority of that could be handled by the priests at the temples, but many of them are so preoccupied with not offending Yevon that they will not think for themselves. And we must all do the thinking for them."

Yuna couldn't help but smile then—a true smile. It was the first one she'd smiled since her capture. The face of disgust he was making was amusing. Seeing that she was the tiniest bit more easy in his company today, Seymour continued:

"Imagine receiving a sealed letter that has passed through the hands of multiple secret couriers that are trained in the art of stealth and many precautions taken to ensure that they have gotten it to the right recipient. You take it upstairs, lock the door, break the seal, and then find out that it's some trivial matter like what colors to paint the temple walls."

Yuna cracked up. She couldn't help herself.

"Please tell me you're joking," she giggled.

"Afraid not," Seymour said with a heavy sigh, "and there are bound to be a lot of those waiting back in Guadosalam."

"That must be _worse_ than the fiends," Yuna joked.

"I would rather face ten chimeras than deal with such matters," Seymour answered, the ghosting of a real smile on his own lips, "but everyone insisted I take my father's place."

"You didn't want to?"

His lavender eyes darkened to a stormy purple gray.

"Let's talk about something else."

"All right…"

The first place he took her was to a Sphere Museum. Since traveling was so dangerous just due to the sheer number of fiends and the inexperience with so many people with defending themselves, the recording spheres were hard to come by and were often happened upon by sheer chance. They provided only brief glances of Spira's past, but they were very valuable because of that. The museum was offering insane amounts of Gil for a single sphere, even a damaged one.

"There is one in particular that I thought you might like to see," Seymour said when they went into one of the viewing rooms. He activated it and Yuna found herself face to face with her own parents. They were holding an infant version of herself. Judging by her red, wrinkled face, she had only just been born. The video was only a few seconds long, as the sphere was damaged, but Yuna got a chance to see the guests at her naming party. Some were even Al-Bhed, she noticed.

"Where did they find this?" she asked, touching the ghostly image of her father even as it faded from under her fingertips.

"Apparently, Lord Braska took it with him," Seymour said as the lights came back on, "during Sin's last attack, it washed up on shore and an unnamed source brought it here."

"Wow…"

"It was one of the reasons I had to rush off this morning," Seymour said, "they had just finished saving what parts of the recording that they could. With some care, they might be able to get more out of it in time."

If anyone was good at reading people, it was Seymour. In addition to being able to smell emotions, he could also read expressions very well. He had gotten used to noticing things that others often did not—it was an instinct that saved his life in battle many times. Yuna's pupils dilated ever so slightly and he could smell the happiness coming off of her. It was very much akin to the smell of sunshine.

_Finally…a step in the right direction,_ he thought, _if I can only keep from having any more swarms…_

They were gone all day and Seymour let Yuna pick the places they went to (much to her surprise). The swarms of well-wishers swarmed them both, clogging up the roads and slowing the carriage down. They received an enormous amount of gifts and the carriage was packed full by the time it was over. Pictures were taken by the hundreds and Yuna was seeing spots by the time it was all over. At the restaurant they had dinner at, the entire staff came out to greet them. They were brought so much food that both were quite miserably full by the time they left. The Behemoth steaks were so big that Yuna hadn't even been able to finish hers. She could have eaten the meat by itself and been full for a whole day. Besides that, there was pasta with a rich, creamy sauce and tender bits of vegetables, rolls so light and fluffy that they were like eating bread-flavored air, and a wine so sweet that the alcohol content was barely noticeable. For dessert, there were little chocolate cakes. When Yuna took a bite of hers, her eyes had widened in surprise at the cold filling—it was full of a rich fudge-flavored ice cream. Seymour, unused to eating at all let alone so much at once, had to try and discreetly loosen the sash on his robe. Digesting such a large meal when being an Unsent wouldn't be pleasant at all—it would probably sit there for days before all the Pyreflies finally converted it into something intangible like magic.

"Why are we coming up here?" Yuna asked as he led her up the stairs inside the temple.

"You will see."

The climb was hard when they were both so full of heavy, rich food, but it was well worth it. By the time they reached the top, the sky was blazing orange and pink with the sunset. In the east, the sky was turning a soft purple. In the west, it appeared to be on fire. The lamps in Bevelle were slowly being lit one by one until the sky faded into blue-violet and the black city below twinkled with what looked like orange-yellow stars mirroring the silver ones coming out above. They watched the last bit of orange disappearing and he wrapped an arm around her.

"Hardly anyone comes up here," he said, "they used to have a guard posted to fight off the flying fiends, but there are so many on the walls now that it's no longer necessary."

"It _is_ quite a view," she agreed, "if I got stuck with guard duty, this would be the place I'd pick."

"And just think…this is only the beginning," he reminded her, "we've still got so many places left to see together."

"I look forward to it."

And she did…just not what was going to happen afterward. It had been nice to take a day off from worrying about what he was going to do. For a little while, it had been easy for even her to believe they were just some normal married couple. He pressed his cold lips against her temple, stroking her hair. They stayed like that for several minutes before they went downstairs. The air of wariness returned to Seymour again as they descended into the maze of basement rooms. He was watching her carefully and she wished he wouldn't. She wasn't going anywhere, at least not for now. Surely he knew that. They returned to the room they shared. He could smell her uneasiness at this, but acted indifferent to it. Without any sign of uneasiness or embarrassment, he shrugged out of his robes and tugged on the dark blue pajama pants he usually wore to bed on. Sleeping would help all that food disappear faster. Yuna stayed standing where she was as he lay the robes over a chair. He didn't notice her hands trembling as she retrieved her own nightgown. This one was a bit more conservative, thank Yevon. It was sky blue and the hem came to about mid-calf. She changed in the bathroom. Wondering if Seymour would want her again tonight, she gathered her courage and switched off the light. She slid under the covers, waiting to see what would happen. Much to her relief, nothing did. Seymour appeared to already be asleep, his ribs rising and falling gently with the slow, heavy breath of sleep. One arm gripped the covers loosely over his bare tattooed chest. It was so dark that she could barely see his outline let alone the details, but she was sure she was safe for now. She hoped the next place would at least have windows so that she could see the moon outside.

The moon that Yuna couldn't see currently was the that Tidus was staring at. Sitting hunched over by the fire, he held his sword in his lap and mindlessly turned it over and over in his hands. Lulu was practicing a more advanced fire spell that periodically caused the flames to shoot up explosively. After the third or fourth time, he finally stood abruptly and the sword clanged noisily to the ground.

"Will you _stop_ that?! What's the point?! What _good_ is it to train anymore?!" he snapped loudly. Lulu's hands froze in the air, the jet of flames dying. The others all looked at each other, then at him.

"I miss her too, ya? But you don' have to yell so much," Wakka scolded him gently. Tidus stalked off into the woods, clearly seething. Auron watched him go with his usual stoic gaze. Rikku had tears in her eyes, but she said nothing. Kimahri continued to sharpen the edges of his blades with stones, though his eyes followed Tidus into the trees. His tail twitched a little despite his stoic expression.

"Should one of us…" Rikku started to ask, but her voice caught.

"Let him go," Auron said dismissively, "he'll come back when he gets hungry."

The joke fell flat, but he wasn't genuinely looking for laughs anyway.

"I hope he isn't going to do anything careless," Lulu said.

"I doubt it," Auron said, "he may not act like it, but he has more sense than he lets on."

They were all quiet for a moment. For two days now, they had been trying to figure out a new plan. They had been too late to intercept the wedding and the hotel invasion was a complete disaster. If it hadn't been for Yuna saving them when she did, they'd have been stuck in prison. Injured but alive, all of them had fled into the Macalania Woods. Here, they'd been trying to figure out a better plan than "guess which temple Seymour and Yuna were going to next". Auron knew of only six Aeons—the five that Yuna would have already plus the final one—but Seymour might know of more. There were at least three more that were rumored to exist, but he didn't know how ambitious Seymour was going to be about chasing ghosts. The other option was to go to Zanarkand and wait for the two of them to eventually show up, but that might take ages and someone else might find out in the meantime. Seymour and the others had seen the airship, so that was definitely out—they would need the element of surprise on their hands. Least likely was the possibility that he might give Yuna back voluntarily, but they had absolutely nothing to barter with. They would have to stay here a few days to even have any hope of reconnecting with Cid and the others. It was rough to say the least.

Not being able to stand it, Rikku went looking for Tidus. She found him sitting beside the spring and angrily chunking rocks into the water.

"I know how much you miss Yunie," Rikku said quietly, "but there's something else, isn't there?"

"Of course," Tidus said with disgust, "I hate Seymour! If I could just get him alone, I'd hit him so hard that his Pyreflies would have Pyreflies!"

Rikku giggled.

"Just the thought of her with him…it makes my blood boil," Tidus said, pitching another rock, "he doesn't care about her. He just wants her for his stupid plan. And she was going to go along with it at the beginning…"

SPLASH!

Another rock smacked into the water.

"I thought our problems were solved when we killed him," Tidus sighed, looking at his own unhappy expression in the shimmering water, "I thought maybe…you know. And then I found out…you know."

Rikku nodded, listening patiently.

"I was sure this was gonna work out somehow," he said, forlornly, "now I don't know anything. And I keep wondering about how she's doing."

"We all have," Rikku said, "but I think he _does_ care about her in his own weird way—that doesn't excuse anything he's done or probably will do, but there is that at least."

"Yeah," Tidus grumbled. Some comfort _that_ was. Somehow that made him hate Seymour even more.

"It's getting late," Rikku said, "we should be getting back to camp in case a chimera shows up. Maybe we'll come up with something tomorrow."

He followed her back to camp, though he turned his head a little and gazed at the spot where he and Yuna had first kissed.

Seymour didn't dream often these days, but when he did, the dreams were often jumbled and had a fragmented quality about them. It was another side-effect of his unique power. He often wondered if the Pyreflies themselves dreamed or if it was just because he had so many memories that weren't his. After awakening in a very disoriented state, he realized he was all sprawled out across the bed on his belly. Poor Yuna was hugging the side of the bed and he gently eased her back toward the middle. Another inch over and she'd have probably fallen out. She shivered a little in her sleep and he cursed his constant iciness. Rather than waste a warmth potion, however, he simply tucked the covers around her more so that she wouldn't feel him and wake up. He would save that for when they were more intimate. For now, he was about to roll onto his side away from her when he heard her sigh contentedly. Surprised, he froze there on his back. Judging by her scent, she was still asleep—she had to be. That waft of sweetness was something that only came with romantic feelings and she hadn't seemed to have many for him. He tried not to think of who she might be dreaming of—that was a sure way to bring on one of those uncontrollable Pyrefly spells. Instead, he watched as she inched closer to him. It felt a little dishonest to spoon with her when she was clearly thinking about someone else, but Seymour could have cared less. For once she wasn't either pulling away from him or stiffening up like she'd been stone-cast. His eyes slid closed as he drank in the warmth that radiated from the layer of fabric separating them. Even as an Unsent, it was the best nights' sleep he'd had in a long time.

_It's a pity we have to go to the Cloister of Trials tomorrow,_ he thought. Today had been like a vacation.


	6. Chapter 6

Yuna woke with a sense of dread that morning. Outside, she could hear thunder grumbling very faintly. Gem informed her that there was quite a storm going on and that it was a blessing that they were so deep underground. Yuna only half-heartedly agreed as she started on her porridge and toast. Since Seymour neither needed nor wanted to eat, his presence at the table was merely to keep Yuna company. She ate in silence as her formidable husband took care of some of the more tedious tasks that his job required. It was odd to see Seymour sitting there with piles of paperwork and letters to be answered. The quill he had was quite large and made from one of the feathers of a Zu—the enormous raven-like creature from the Bikanel Desert was the only kind of bird who had feathers large enough for Seymour's hands to hold comfortably.

"You're staring," he said without looking up. A blush bloomed on Yuna's cheeks and her gaze dropped to the cooling food in her bowl.

"I'm sorry…"

"Do you think me handsome?"

She turned even redder. That was a trick question if she ever heard one.

"Um…ah…uh…"

"It was a _joke,_" he smirked, enjoying her discomfort. Yuna noisily scraped up the last of her breakfast, desperate to break the awkward silence. The last bit of her toast seemed to stick in her throat and she took several gulps of tea to wash it down.

"Finished?"

She nodded.

"Ready for the Cloister?"

"As I'll ever be," she said, resigned. Both scooted their chairs back from the table and headed for the door. Before she could actually reach the knob, his hand intercepted hers.

"Be strong," he whispered, "and know that I am with you every step of the way."

His kiss cut her air off, leaving her gasping a bit as they went into the hallway. The desire he felt was subtle to everyone else but very obvious to her: his lavender eyes had gone that stormy violet shade again and his facial veins were a darker blue, almost a royal blue color. She was silently thankful that the Cloister kept him from acting on it—he wouldn't want to tire her out before she'd gotten all the way through. He gave her hand a little squeeze and led her down a mazelike hallway until they reached the right room. Yuna heard the rattles and creaks of machinery with the occasional steamy puff of hot air through pipes. She stared at their surroundings, puzzled.

"Why is there so much machina in here?" she asked.

"Bevelle is a large city," Seymour responded, "and it still grows day by day. The machina allow it to support a larger population."

"But isn't anyone afraid of Sin coming here?" Yuna asked.

"Sin has a mind of its own," Seymour responded, "what's to stop it from reaching Luca? What's to stop it from wiping out your beloved Besaid? In the end, it does not matter."

Yuna didn't know what to say or think. She noticed that the structures of machina became increasingly obvious and more complex the further in they got. Once they reached the Cloister itself, the entire temple seemed to be alive with alien mechanical creatures. She watched as several robots whizzed past, all created for some mundane purpose or another. A strange console-like device stuck out of the wall. Yuna gazed at the flashing lights and blinking buttons for a few seconds before she looked down. There was an enormous spiral staircase in the cylindrical-shaped room and she wondered how far down the spheres were. It would take forever just to get to the bottom. When she turned back around, she saw Seymour's eyes narrowed in concentration as he examined the console. Then, quite unexpectedly, his long clawed fingers tapped the buttons nimbly as if he had done this sort of thing on a regular basis. There was a grinding sound and a thud and a platform appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Your carriage, my lady," Seymour said, gesturing to it. Yuna got on the platform and wondered what it was for. Seymour touched a button, then quickly leapt onto it beside her. Yuna yelped in surprise when it pitched forward and had to hang onto Seymour's arm to keep from falling off. The stairs had flattened and they descended with dizzying speed in a corkscrew pattern on the now smoothed-out stairs. It would have been fun if it hadn't been so scary! They reached a cavernous room next that was almost completely dark except for a series of glowing paths. Yuna knelt down to get a closer look.

"Oh my…" she gasped. The paths were made of nothing but _light._ Strange designs reminiscent of Al-Bhed machine display flowed through the air and that was literally all that was between their platform and a huge plummet to the ground.

"You needn't be afraid," Seymour told her, "the way is perfectly safe."

"But…how?"

"I do not know the exact mechanics, but we are currently being held aloft by magnetic energy," Seymour said, "that is powered by lightning magic. It is continuously being generated by those spheres over there."

Yuna stared. Her gaze panned across the room and she realized she couldn't even see the end of it.

"This is going to take a while," she said almost apologetically, "I've never seen so many spheres and pedestals in my life."

"Take your time, please," Seymour said casually, "I am still not expected back for quite some time."

Somehow that made her want to hurry more. Funny how her pilgrimage, her friends, and her entire life was being inconvenienced, yet she was worried in the back of her mind about taking up too much of _his_ time. It was silly to feel that way after all he'd done to her. Nevertheless, she tried not to dwell on it too much. If this temple was anything like the last one, removing the wrong sphere might actually jeopardize her footing. Sighing, she began the arduous task of figuring out which sphere went where. Seymour didn't say anything or even sigh with impatience which made her feel even stranger. She was used to being able to read people and she never quite knew what he was thinking. When she made mistakes and put the wrong spheres in the wrong places, she was worried about being judged for her mistakes. He still said nothing, however, just followed her in and out and up and down on the various platforms.

_It must be because he's an Unsent,_ Yuna thought, _he only sleeps once in a while, rarely eats, and never has to go to the bathroom. Time must pass differently when you don't have such needs._

When she found the last sphere and put it in the ringed door, Seymour gave her a nod of approval. Despite her resentment for him dragging her here, it stroked her ego and she couldn't help but feel good though his opinion wasn't supposed to matter. Her mind replayed that instant on the shores of Mushroom Rock after the disastrous Operation Mi'ihen when he had said that people would expect more of her than each other. If she had impressed him, it meant that she was doing _something _right.

"I shall be out here if you need anything," he said quietly, giving her a quick hug before the door separated them. Yuna watched it close and waited there for a few minutes to try and clear her mind. It bothered her immensely that she cared what the cruel Maester thought of her. The more she tried to forget about it, the worse it got to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to forget about him just now. She could sort all that out later. Kneeling in front of the fayth statue, she realized that it was a small boy of about eight or nine. It grieved her when she saw child fayths because they had given up their vitality at such a young age. She longed to reach out and give this boy a hug, but restrained her slender fingers before she could act on it. Instead, she reached out to the fayth with her mind. The altered state of consciousness began to take effect as it always did when she prayed. She didn't notice the soreness in her legs and back from not moving, the cold seeping through her skirt from the floor, or the hunger, thirst, and fatigue that were creeping in. She didn't notice anything as her eyes fixed in a blank stare on the dragon-shaped pattern in the statue. Sitting so still that her ribs barely moved with her breath, Yuna called out to the voice that went with the little boy. After a very long time, the statue shimmered and came to life with a yellow-orange glow. The fayth appeared. She couldn't see his eyes because a black hood obscured most of his face. He reached out to her, kicking his feet in a swimming motion. Yuna watched as he sailed weightlessly toward her with outstretched arms. He looked as if he were about to give her a hug, but dissolved into Pyreflies at the last possible second. These sank into Yuna's skin and she doubled over as the Aeon temporarily seized control of her. Despite the boy's small frame and mysterious, quiet features, his Aeon was the most powerful presence yet. It was so strong that Yuna collapsed in a dead faint just a second after receiving the child's fayth. When she came to, she felt a familiar chilled hand stroking her forehead.

"Mmmmph…" she mumbled unintelligibly.

"Return to me now, Yuna," the soft tenor voice whispered in her ear. Despite the icy touch, the cold heaviness in her limbs slowly retreated. Her vision cleared and she was looking into Seymour's concerned face. He was kneeling on the floor with her upper body in his arms. One arm supported her shoulders, neck, and head. The other one was the one resting on her forehead.

"You have him now?" Seymour asked.

"Mmmm-hmmm…" her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to keep them open.

"Well done," he said quietly, though his voice was full of pride, "rest now."

"You don' have to…" she slurred as he picked her up.

"It's my job," he said crisply as they ascended upward on the platform, "and you're in no state to resist anyway."

She agreed silently by closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. Tromell and Gem brought food and potions to their room to help restore Yuna's strength, but she really only wanted to sleep. During one of her more marginally awake moments, Seymour explained to them that Yuna was probably so tired because she'd been in there a day and a half. She stayed awake for around five minutes only to humor Seymour in drinking one of the potions before succumbing to the restful, warm darkness once more.

_How blessed you will be when you no longer have to deal with such fatigue,_ he thought, stroking her hair, _you will become so much stronger._

When she woke, it was late at night. Still groggy and disoriented, she asked Seymour how long she'd slept.

"The better part of the day," he responded, putting a bookmark in what appeared to be a very, very old book, "but we couldn't wake you, so we stopped trying. It is good to see that you aren't ill."

"He was so powerful," she sighed, "I just didn't know…I wasn't prepared…"

"If it makes you feel any better, he had the same effect on me," Seymour replied, "you will feel like yourself again soon."

She tried to sit up and winced when there was a sharp pain in her shoulder. Her arm was killing her because she'd lain on one side for too long. Seymour's fingers grazed the skin on the back of her shoulder and the pain began to vanish. It was unsettling to realize that he always seemed to know when she was either hurting or just feeling unwell.

"Better?"

She nodded.

"Thank you. What's that book about?"

"It is something that the Guado Maesters have passed down through the years," he answered, "it contains very advanced spells that only the best black and white mages can learn. I haven't even gotten through the first quarter of it yet, but I wouldn't be much of a guardian if I myself didn't keep training."

She was a little more impressed. Even Seymour's enormous ego appeared to have limits.

"Can you teach me?"

His gaze was wary, but he didn't smell any guilt or ill intentions.

"Perhaps," he replied, "but not until I myself get them down. A mistake for these spells could cost you your life."

"Oh." She sounded like a disappointed child whose mother had not given in to the Siren's call of sweets or new toys.

"Do not despair," he said, sliding his fingers under her chin and guiding it up, "there is a great deal more for you to learn before you ever reach this level of magic. You have great power—more than I did when I was your age. You will catch up in no time."

He kissed her forehead, then her cheek.

"I hope so," she sighed, "everyone's depending on me so much these days. It's exhausting having a father that has such a big reputation."

He gave a subtle nod. She remembered Lord Jyscal and how he was the whole reason she was in this mess—at least in a very inadvertent post-mortem way. She couldn't blame Jyscal for Seymour killing him, but who was really the guilty party?

"Yes…very exhausting," he whispered, "but now it is up to us to create our own future. And Spira's. Our names will eclipse those of our predecessors. We will be legends."

The kiss caught her off guard despite seeing his face descending towards hers. He crushed her tightly against her chest and she shivered violently, still slightly chilled from sleep. She saw him retrieve a small glowing orange bottle, flip the lid off with his clawed thumb, and down the contents. There was hardly more than a swallow there, but the effect was immediate. His veins glowed orange for a second before returning to normal.

"Let's try again," he suggested, embracing her once more. The chill had gone, replaced with a nearly feverish warmth. Yuna hated to admit this even to herself, but it felt good. She tried to imagine what it would have been like if Seymour hadn't ended up being the bad guy. In time, she'd have sought comfort from his arms like this, perhaps even craved it. He kissed her again much more gently this time and she was a little startled when her heart rate jumped. His thumb grazed the inside of her wrist, feeling for the pulse point there. The touch brought gooseflesh to her skin. She felt strange and disoriented.

_What's happening?_

To Seymour, the simple increase in her pulse was a moment more victorious than winning a fight with a dozen sin-spawn. He had to remind himself to go slowly so as not to frighten her and wreck the moment. She still tasted sweet from the fragrant tea she'd had with her dinner and he could still detect the faintest traces of the sugar she'd stirred into it. It pleased him that her eyes had slid closed and that her body wasn't as tense this time. His fingertips grazed the delicate region of her shoulder and collarbone, outlining the shape. She truly was beautiful…he trailed kisses there and felt her pulse jump more. In her mind, a trail of flowers bloomed there only their petals were made of flames.

_I don't feel like myself at all…_ she thought vaguely. Her mind had grown oddly sluggish and seemed to be slowing down more every second. Just before she stopped being able to think at all, she wondered to herself if enjoying this was really such a bad thing, if getting just a tiny little bit of selfish pleasure made her a traitor.

Then she felt her dress sliding from her shoulders and forgot everything else.

Just as the first time, he was very, very careful not to hurt her or even to make any sudden moves. He was also very mindful of her reactions and didn't press the issue if she pushed him away. He noticed, however, that there was a great deal less resistance. Wondering what exactly had changed or if she simply pitied him that much, he tried not to worry about it and enjoy her. The days left to just be a married couple were numbered and this was something he wanted to take with him to hold onto during his more lucid moments as Sin. He wanted to remember the silken curtain of chocolate colored hair, the soft creamy pale skin with its strawberry flush on her cheeks. He wanted to remember the way her arms twined around him for the first time and actually pulled him closer. This time, she didn't feel distant. She was kissing him back and returning touch for touch. And when they joined this time, she moved with him the way a sandy shore would subtly shift beneath a powerful ocean wave. It was the most wanted Seymour had ever felt in his entire life. The scent of her sweat was more powerful than any drug in Spira because it contained the subtle sweet hints of desire. It was beautiful…

Yuna opened her eyes and her vision had blurred for a moment. A strange light was coming off of Seymour. When her vision cleared, she realized that there were Pyreflies floating around him. Unlike the previous two times, they floated leisurely and didn't have the angry, erratic movements like before. Tremors raced through the half-Guado's limbs and he seemed either unwilling or unable to move for a few seconds. Then, the Pyreflies vanished and he rolled to the side, a tangle of slack limbs and mussed hair. When he opened his eyes, his gaze was perfectly lucid.

She breathed a sigh of relief at that.

"I want you to know," he said huskily, "that I will remember this night forever."

They fell asleep, limbs entwined, with Yuna drifting off in a warm haze.

In the room across the hallway, Tromell and Gem were burning the midnight oil in a manner of speaking. Several herbs, distillates, and various glass chemistry items were littering the table along with crumpled parchment in some places, others with crossed-out words but otherwise intact states. They both looked quite satisfied with themselves as they examined the row of tiny dropper bottles filled with a clear fluid.

"I think we've finally got it," Gem said, "they were in there for quite a long time and their scents _linger_ so…if they hadn't been…busy…the door would have been unlocked for me to retrieve Lady Yuna's dinner tray."

"Yes…Lord Seymour never called for me this evening either," Tromell replied, "I can't believe this worked out as well as it did. We make quite a team."

The tiny bottles contained a very unique mixture, one that would probably be considered illegal in most of Spira. The liquid was colorless and tasteless—a sip of it and you would swear that it was ordinary water. It was also odorless which was absolutely no small accomplishment when a Guado nose was taken into account. The effect was similar to a very strong alcohol in the sense that it lowered one's inhibitions. It could also function as an aphrodisiac under very specific circumstances. Unlike many of the other illicitly crafted drugs, this one had _no_ physical side effects that gave it away. There was no dilation of pupils, no spike in body temperature, no exhaustion, and most importantly, no hangover. It had taken Tromell and Gem weeks to get the mixture right and they'd had to figure out ways to very discreetly test it on unsuspecting coworkers to be sure it wasn't going to be toxic or detectable. Even Seymour didn't know about this little project which was even more impressive—there was very little that their dear Maester didn't know about. Tromell was nothing if not loyal—he had suspected that there would be some reluctance on Lady Yuna's part about the whole marriage and had formulated a backup plan. Contrary to what the whole world thought about him, Tromell _always_ had a backup plan. It had pained him so much to see Seymour and his mother suffer at Jyscal's hands that he vowed he would do whatever he could to stop it from occurring again. This time, he mused, Seymour would _not_ feel alone. And Gem had turned out to be the perfect ally in this, as her knowledge of various healing herbs and toxic ones was invaluable along with her acting skills.

"We'll have to be careful how much we give them," Gem pointed out, "on its own, a small dose is quite powerful. We don't want to risk them getting sick."

"We should wait a few days, then," Tromell said, "maybe three or four at least. Then we give it to them every so often to reinforce the bonding. Lady Yuna's convictions are still quite strong, but she'll have a much harder time walking away after this."

"I hope so," Gem said, "every night since Lord Seymour brought her to us, I've smelled fear and resentment and anger. It must be hard for him knowing that she's terrified of him."

"He will overcome," Tromell said proudly, "Lord Seymour is the strongest man I know."

"Matters of the heart are not always so easy to fix," Gem said, "we've given them a head start with this potion, but it will be up to them to sort the rest of it out. Now let's get everything packed up before they find out. The potion itself may be odorless, but the ingredients are not."

They worked until morning getting things put away and disposing of other things. Seymour was insistent on keeping his impeccable appearance and was very hard on his staff and followers for even possessing more than a certain quantity of alcohol—he would probably fire them if he caught them with such powerful drugs. It would pain him to do so, but he would do it. If he found out what they were doing with them, then death would probably be an eminent consequence. After they had carefully hidden the small vials, cleared out all the debris, and scrubbed the table, both collapsed in exhaustion. In the morning, they were careful to act as cheerful as always and take measures to cover up their puffy, bloodshot eyes, trembling hands, and wide yawns. It was worth noting that Yuna had more color in her cheeks now than she ever had before.

The couple woke from their slumber later that morning. An uncharacteristic shyness came over Seymour as he disentangled himself from the blankets. He hadn't really slept as much as he'd zoned out, though he felt no ill effects due to his Unsent status. He felt Yuna's gaze on him just as he had turned his back to her and glanced over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" she asked sleepily.

"To bathe," he responded, "want to join me?"

She followed him, though a creeping sense of uneasiness nagged at the back of her mind. What on earth had happened last night? She couldn't ever remember feeling so strange. She hadn't ever been a drinker, so she didn't know what the effects of being inebriated were, but she could guess. It was likely the closest to being drunk she'd ever been in her life. A glass of wine or two tended to make her sleepy, but this…it was bizarre. And she hadn't had anything alcoholic to drink at all yesterday. She tried to put it out of her mind lest Seymour suspect something, but it was hard. As she climbed into the tub, she tried to focus on what was going on right now. They would probably be heading out shortly, though she had no idea where they would go next. Seymour slid into the water across from her and turned the tap off.

"I will miss this place," he sighed, "it gets hard living out of tents after being here for so long."

She nodded in agreement. She wouldn't miss the constant threat of fiends.

"Where are we going now?" she asked.

"There are yet more Aeons for you to receive," Seymour answered, retrieving the bottle of soap, "the five you now possess are from the most frequently visited temples in Spira. There are three more, however, that are a bit more difficult to reach. You will greatly help your chances of defeating Sin by gaining those last three because they are very powerful. And I know where all of them are."

"Who are they?" Yuna asked, curious. She had heard of Valefor, Ifrit, Ixion, Shiva, and Bahamut many times. The other three were either unknown, unnamed, or perhaps both. They were the stuff of legends.

"The first is near the entrance of Mount Gagazet," Seymour said, "that particular fayth was stolen to prevent Summoners from completing their pilgrimage, possibly by the Al-Bhed. They went to a great deal of trouble to try and cover their tracks, but they weren't careful enough."

"How did you find out?" Yuna asked.

"I have my ways," he said with a smirk, "his name is believed to be Yojimbo. I don't know much more about him than that. He used to be located at the Temple of Yevon. I suppose that will be a grand adventure for the both of us."

"And the other two?"

"The second is a set of triplets," he said, "they are nicknamed 'the Magus sisters'. Supposedly Sin killed their parents, so the eldest sister took on training to become a Summoner. The three younger girls didn't want her going alone, so they all became her guardians. When she was to receive her final Aeon, the three insisted on never being separated, so they all became fayths together."

"That's so…sad," Yuna couldn't quite find the words for it, "where are they?"

"Also in the Calm Lands," Seymour answered, "though I only have an educated guess of where that temple is."

"And the last one?"

By now, they were both getting out of the tub.

"I should think that's obvious," Seymour said quietly, "the last Aeon is the greatest gift I can give you: Anima."

"Your mother?" Yuna was stunned.

"Correct," he responded, toweling off, "you shall have both of us after we have received the others and traveled to Zanarkand. It seems fitting, as she and you are the only true family I have."

Yuna felt a pang of sympathy for the purple-eyed man who paused in drying off for a moment. His gaze went to his own reflection in the mirror and she knew he was probably picturing what he would turn into. Swallowing hard, she placed her hand on his still-damp back.

"I'm honored," she said quietly.

"Getting to her will not be easy," he warned, "I purposely moved her fayth myself to ensure that no one else could get to her. She rests in the wreckage of Baaj Temple beneath the ocean itself. I hated to do that, but no other place seemed quite safe enough."

"At least you'll be there to help me," Yuna tried to sound cheerful. He embraced her for a moment, treasuring the feeling of skin-to-skin contact. Though his skin had cooled again over night, it was still warm enough from the bath not to chill her.

"It is getting late. We'd better get going, then," he said quietly. Both got dressed quickly. Yuna ate breakfast while Seymour oversaw the packing up and rounding up their servants, guards, and other staff. Once again, Yuna tried to discreetly watch for her staff, but it was already either packed or he'd gone to great pains to conceal it. With a resigned sigh, she put her smile-mask in place and headed for the carriage.

_Yevon give me strength to do the right thing…_


End file.
